


fearless.

by lordvoldyfarts



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 67,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldyfarts/pseuds/lordvoldyfarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke needs someone to help with gas money. Lexa needs a ride home. They both need a way to escape. Clearly, a road trip across the country is the only solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i wanna stay right here in this passenger seat.

A 7am photography lab has probably not been her best life choice but it gets her out of the apartment bright and early and that’s all Lexa needs.

She doesn’t hate living there – in fact, it’s rather pleasant. Her roommate, Raven, is decent as far as roommates go. She isn’t too loud and she always makes enough food to feed a small army, the leftovers of which she leaves on Lexa’s side of the fridge. Her only possible complaint is how late she keeps her rowdy friends over on Friday nights but even that, she can live with. All she needs to do is put her headphones on and tune into the sound of…anywhere else. Paris, maybe. Bangladesh, when she’s feeling particularly nostalgic. Peru, sometimes when she craves the smell of unpolluted ocean and the feeling of white sand between her toes. With the right music, the right sounds of nature, Lexa can go anywhere. She has CD’s upon CD’s, labeled with sounds from places she’s been and places she wishes she could go. So she can block out Raven’s annoying friends. It isn’t a big deal.

But she needs to be out of the apartment as much as possible. There’s only so long she can stay in one place. Only so long she can sit in her room and do homework. It’s boring. It’s repetitive. It’s not who she is. They live in a city that’s big enough to get lost in and Lexa often does.

(It’s a good thing she has navigation on her phone otherwise she’d have succumbed to the elements a long time ago.)

So she leaves early and she wanders. She takes back streets and a new route every day.  She takes pictures of pretty buildings she’s sure she won’t ever see again and children waiting for the bus and discolored stop signs. She loads her camera with once in a lifetime sights she wouldn’t get to see from her bedroom window.

And then she goes to class and she pretends that the routine of everything doesn’t bore her. That walking the same path from class to class doesn’t make her wish she were anywhere else.

But the semester is nearly finished and she’s set to travel into Siberia with her father over the summer so at least she has that to look forward to. Some actual ice cold might do her good. It doesn’t freeze in San Francisco. Not like it does up there. She’s never been to Siberia. Russia, of course, but only as far north as St. Petersburg. She’s always wanted to see it. The desolation. The emptiness. The people who find the heart in the cold.

She’s always wondered if people with that sort of strength only exist in places like that or if you could find them anywhere.

(She hopes, deep down, though she refuses to even acknowledge it, for the second option.)

She gets back to the apartment well before Raven does, as it usually is, and she goes into her room. She pulls back her drapes and she lets the sunlight in. She keeps her boom box on her bookshelf, next to the stack of CDs, and she loads it up with a special Russia themed CD while she presses dial on her father’s contact. She sits on her bed with her legs crossed and back straight while she listens to the dial tone. Break is still a few days off but she wants to make sure all of her flight plans are in order. She has no time for delays. He picks up after a few moments. “Hello, Lexa.” He speaks in a familiar, rigid tone.

“Hello, Father.” She replies, her tone equally as stiff. “I’m calling to make sure my flight is in order for Saturday. I don’t want to be delayed at the airport.” She continues and there’s a sound coming from the living room and she hopes it isn’t Raven– she hasn’t closed her door yet. She hears a long sigh from the other end of the receiver and her heart nearly stops. Oh no.

“Lexa, my darling, I’m very sorry to have to tell you this over the phone but I’m afraid we won’t be able to make Siberia. Something work related has come up and I can’t fly out.” He says and Lexa’s shoulders fall. Typical. She isn’t sure why she expects anything from him anymore. “Your Mother has graciously offered her home to you for the summer.” Oh no. There is _no_ way.

“I can go on my own. It wouldn’t be my first solo trip.” Lexa suggests and her father’s sigh is heavy.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I cancelled both of our tickets, Lexa.” She clenches her teeth.

“That wasn’t your decision to make.” She says, though it’s nearly a growl.

“Of course it was. I was paying. You’re going to stay with your Mother. End of story.” He says, effectively cutting her off, as he always does. It’s nothing that she isn’t used to.

“How am I supposed to get to her? She’s all the way in Maryland. Any flight I purchase now will be wildly expensive and to be honest, I don’t find her worth the money.” She says, frustrated.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to figure that out on your own, darling.” He says and it lacks any kind of empathy. Her nostrils flare.

“Fine.” She says through still clenched teeth. She won’t give him the satisfaction of begging for his help. She is, most certainly, above that.

“Try and have a good break. I’ll call if I get a chance.” He speaks one last time before hanging up, leaving Lexa to listen to a dial tone and for her brain to try and catch up with what just happened. She’s going to have to spend summer with mother. In Maryland. That is, if she could figure out a way to get there. There is nothing about this she’s looking forward to. Especially not booking a last minute bus seat where she’s bound to end up next to some fat man who smells like nachos and can’t hold his flatulence until he gets to the bathroom.

(And she tries not to be upset about losing out on Siberia, on the only thing she’s had to look forward to in months. It works, so long as she shoves it in that back corner where the other skeletons live.)

She hears footsteps in the hall and then a blonde is poking her head into the room. She recognized her. One of Raven’s friends, she thinks, and vaguely she wonders how on earth she got in. “Do you need something…?” She asks, exasperatedly. She really wasn’t looking for company right now. Especially not company from a stranger who’s friends with her (mostly) irritatingly loud roommate but an open door is an invitation, at least as far as she knows.

“Can I come in?” Lexa nods, though it’s barely just a short tick of the head. Her back is stiffened straight and her eyes are hard. She clenches her fist, grabbing some of the blanket beneath her, like she’s on some sort of guard.

The girl, whose name she thinks might be Clarke says, “Okay, so I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, really, but I overheard you on the phone. You said you’re heading to Maryland. I’m from D.C…” Clarke trails off and her eyes are wide as her words start to fade to make sure that Lexa gets her implication and she does. Boy, she does.

“Are you suggesting that we travel together?” Lexa says and Clarke shrugs.

“I have a car. The person I was supposed to drive with just bailed on me, so I was just going to post something to craigslist about ridesharing and I figure, I sort of already know you. You live with Raven, so, you’re a lot less likely to kill me than a stranger from the internet.” Clarke says and Lexa thinks about the knife collection she has under her bed and she figures now might not be the best time to mention that.

“That’s…likely true.” Lexa replies. And really, it wouldn’t be a bad deal. The girl doesn’t seem to be too difficult. She’s got a sweet face (though Lexa knows a sweet face ought not to be trusted). And sharing a car with one person is leaps and bounds better than sharing a bus with sixty. At least Clarke doesn’t smell. Clarke takes a few steps closer to her.

“We can make a trip out of it!” She says and Lexa is still looking up at her skeptically. Clarke lets out a breath. “Look, I know that we don’t really know each other, like at all, but I need someone to split the gas money with and you need a ride. If you agree, we both get what we want.” And that’s pretty compelling – as if Lexa had really thought about saying _no_ to begin with. She was desperate. Not that she would ever admit it. A solo ride with a virtual stranger was more appealing to her than a bus ride. She nods her head.

“I suppose that would be…acceptable.” She agrees and Clarke swings her arms up to clap her hands once.

“Great! I’ll come by Saturday morning and we can load your stuff up!” She says, giving her another smile, which is brighter and less nervous than the previous ones she’s given, and Lexa, hesitantly, returns it. And truly, Clarke is a pretty girl. There’s no denying that. She’d caught view of her on a few occasions, though none as long as this. She was always Raven’s friend and Lexa knew better than to invade on Raven’s territory.

“Saturday morning it is….Clarke.” She echoes, punctuating her sentence with the girl’s name. She pauses in the doorway, smiling at Lexa softly. She gives her one last not before she turns to leave. Lexa stares after her, the image of Clarke’s smile still imprinted on the forefront of her brain.

She convinces herself the turning in her stomach is hunger.

-

It’s Bellamy’s turn to host game night and his apartment is a mess. There’s clothes, empty beer bottles, crushed red solo cups, and Clarke is pretty sure the pizza box on his floor is from _last_ game night. She’s on the couch, next to Raven, who has one of her legs thrown up on Clarke’s lap. Clarke taps her fingers on the brace. Bellamy and Jasper are engaged in an intense battle of Call of Duty and Clarke’s already called winner. She hopes it’s Jasper. She knows all of his strategy by now. Bellamy’s always been a bit tougher to crack. A little more unpredictable. She still wins though – it just takes a little while longer. Raven’s playing Animal Crossing on her DS, utterly disinterested in what’s going on on the screen in front of her. She sticks the stylus in her mouth and looks up at Clarke with a raised eyebrow, “So you sure you want to hit the open road with Sabrina the Teenage Witch, sketchy roommate extraordinaire?” Clarke rolls her eyes. She flicks Raven on the ankle.

“I told you not to call her that.” She says, leaning her head back against the couch.

“I’m just saying, take a salt shaker with you in case she pulls out a black flame candle and tries to virgin sacrifice you.” Raven says, looking back down to the screen of her DS.

“She’s not a witch, Raven. She’s just quiet.” Clarke defends, though honestly she knows next to nothing about Lexa so for all Clarke knew, she could be a practicing witch. Hopefully, for the sake of their trip, she only practiced white magic.

“She’s right Clarke – that girl is sketchy. You don’t know anything about her.” Bellamy says though he doesn’t look at Clarke. The fight on the screen is nearing an end and he has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Raven gestures over to him.

“For once, the prince has something smart to say. Clarke, I live with her and I wouldn’t even travel cross-country with her.” She says and Clarke sighs.

“She was my only option, okay? Because _someone_ ,” She pauses, looking over at Raven with a faux glare. Raven chuckles. “Had to go and get herself an engineering internship. I need the gas money.” Clarke finishes.

“Sorry my impeccable success is an inconvenience to you, princess.” Raven says, absentmindedly and Clarke tries her best to ignore the pang in her chest at the all too familiar nickname. Raven looks up, sharply after a few moments of silence. “Oh shit, Clarke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Clarke waves her off. She shakes her head.

“No, don’t worry. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She says and it’s easy to tell that she doesn’t mean it. Her hand drifts up to the necklace hanging from her neck and she twists it between her fingers. She stares down at her lap. Tears are pricking at the back of her eyes before she has the chance to control them. She sniffs. “I need to use the bathroom.” She mumbles, sliding out from underneath Raven’s leg, resting in on the couch. She stands, keeping her head down. The tears start to slip down her cheeks before she has a chance to lock the bathroom door. She doesn’t bother. She leans over the sink, gripping the basin. She tries to count backwards from ten with her eyes clenched closed but that doesn’t do anything besides produce an image of him behind her eyelids that she can’t blink away.

She takes a shaky breath. She turns on the sink and lets out one long sob. That’s all she can afford herself. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. She opens the cabinet, knowing Bellamy keeps eye drops there for his little…breaks between classes. She searches the rows and her eyes land on a bottle of shaving cream that, from the dried material on the outside, looks like it hasn’t been used in weeks. The cap isn’t on all of the way and the light smattering of dust makes it clear that nobody’s even touched it.

It’s Finn’s.

She recognizes it, if only for the sheer amount of times that Bellamy and Miller had teased him for refusing to buy the generic brand.

Bellamy had kept it.

She brings her fingers up to it, dashing a line through the dust across the label. The smile on her face is bittersweet, as she closes her eyes and remembers what the stubble across his jawline had felt like. How smooth it had felt after he’d finally shaved it, making her touch it as often as she could.

If she focuses hard enough she can still smell his aftershave. She’s about to get lost in the memory when there’s a pounding on the bathroom door. “Griffin, you’re up. Goggles out there gave me my ass on a silver platter.” Bellamy calls from the other side. Clarke jumps, quickly shutting the door of the medicine cabinet. She wipes at her eyes and hopes that nobody notices, or comments, on the state of her eyes.

She pushes past Bellamy without looking up. She settles into the tattered old beanbag chair next to Jasper and grabs the remote. He’s looking at her through his shaggy hair. “You alright, Clarke?” He asks and Clarke nods her head. She straightens her back looks over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Better than you’re about to be. Ready to go?” She asks and his face melds into that familiar floppy grin.

“Bring it on, Griffin. Bring. It. On.”

-

They finish playing around 11 and everybody has a beer in their hands. Raven is still yelling at her game of Animal Crossing and Bellamy is trying to steal the stylus from her, though she’s doing damn well at keeping it away. Clarke is sitting at the kitchen table, her feet hiked up on one of the free chairs. She watches as with her free hand, Raven knocks Bellamy’s hand away.

“Next time your fingers get that close to my stylus, I will slice them off.” Raven threatens and Bellamy pulls his hand back.

“Fine, fine. Buzzkill.” He grumbles, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of beer. He looks over to Clarke.

“So how long’s it going to take you get cross country, kid?” Clarke glares.

“Just under two days if we don’t stop.” She says, though she figures they’ll have to stop to sleep and eat. She doesn’t know what kind of habits Lexa has but she assumes that even if she does spend most of her time holed up in her room, she still does need to eat. And while two days is quite a bit time, it still doesn’t feel like enough. Bellamy leans in across the table.

“I meant what I said earlier, Clarke. Be careful. Just because she’s Raven’s roommate doesn’t mean she’s not some kind of raging psychopath.” He pauses, glancing over at Raven, who is staring intensely down at her game, “Actually, _because_ she’s Raven’s roommate, it’s definitely possible she’s some kind of raging psychopath.” His voice was lowered to a stage whisper but without looking up, Raven says,

“I heard that, jackass.” Clarke laughs and Bellamy looks up at her through his eyelashes. His eyes are soft and it’s clear he’d done that just to cheer her up in some way, which is something she appreciated. She was grateful to have friends as good as the ones she has in her life. Not everybody is so lucky.

She wonders if Lexa has anybody like this. From the little that she knows of her, she can’t imagine that she does. She seems isolated. Guarded. Her straight-backed posture told Clarke as much.

She’s fascinated by Lexa, she has to admit. Someone with as much of a guard as Lexa clearly has (anyone with eyes can see it) agreeing to drive cross country with a stranger? There has to be a reason. And maybe it isn’t Clarke’s business, probably isn’t Clarke’s business, but she wants to find out.

She has at least two days on the road with her to do it.

-

She packs lightly. She’d already arranged for movers to take the rest of her things from the apartment, seeing as Raven would be staying the summer. She’s only packed enough clothing to last a few days. She’d googled the trip length and it said only forty one hours. So as long they only stopped to eat and maybe rest, they would arrive at their destination in about two days’ time. And while Lexa isn’t looking forward to a summer with her mother, she is looking forward to the Maryland beaches. And watching a sunrise from the spot on her balcony.

There are aspects of home that she doesn’t hate. And truly, it’s the familiarity that makes her feel suffocated. It isn’t anything new. It isn’t anything exciting. That’s what Lexa craves. Excitement. Thrill. She gets none of that in suburban Maryland.

What she does get is an underwhelming Mother who only decides she wants to turn on her maternal instinct once or twice year and even then, she does a pretty shoddy job at it. Not that Lexa is complaining. She’d learned a lot from her Mother. Just none of it was how to be a good person.

She sits on top of her suitcase, back straight and eyes on the corner, waiting for Clarke. She isn’t sure what her car looks like so she only searches for a blonde head. A few cars pass and Lexa glances down at her watch. 8:02. She’s late.

Five minutes later, a bright blue car pulls up in front of Lexa, who is staring sourly at the ground. She looks up. She sees Clarke, sunglasses pushed up on top of her head, in the drivers seat. She stands from her suitcase and looks Clarke straight in the eyes. “You’re late.” She says. Clarke shrugs with an apologetic smile.

“I know, I’m sorry! I had an emergency with my roommate. Hugging the porcelain throne.” She says, giving her a look that Lexa doesn’t acknowledge.

“The trunk, please, Clarke?” Lexa asks, gesturing toward it with one of her hands. Clarke nods, pushing a button above her head to pop open the trunk. Lexa figures she won’t get out to meet her – there’s no reason for her to, but she does. She’s standing on the opposite side of the trunk when Lexa hoists her suitcase up.

“Is that the only bag you have?” Clarke asks and Lexa stares up at her, nodding shortly. Clarke stares and it’s mildly discomforting. She’s leaning against the edge of the trunk and her eyes don’t leave Lexa. Lexa glances over at her, barely holding her gaze for more than a second.

“We should get going. I’d like to be nearly through Utah before sundown.” She says, walking back to the passenger side of the car, leaving Clarke at the other end of the car.

Lexa is already settled into the passenger seat, buckled and everything, when Clarke slides back in. The windows are opened just a crack and the radio is playing softly, though Lexa doesn’t recognize the tune coming from it. Clarke seems to though because she’s humming along to it the moment she settles down into the seat. Her fingers are tapping against the steering wheel and she gets ready to put the car into drive. “I have a full tank, so we should be good to go for a few hours at least. If you get hungry, just let me know and I’ll pull over.” Clarke says, looking over her shoulder for any oncoming cars. Seeing none, she begins to pull out of the parking spot. She looks over at Lexa. “Or if you just want to stop because you see something fun.” She shrugs after her addition, shooting her eyes back to the road. Lexa stares at her for a moment.

“We’re going home, Clarke. This isn’t a vacation.” Lexa responds noncommittally, as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet. Clarke shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean it has to be boring.” She says and that makes Lexa look over to her. She isn’t looking at her and the morning sun is illuminating her profile beautifully. She really is a pretty girl. Her eyes seem to sparkle the way the light is reflecting on to them and Lexa swears she feels her stomach drop. How uncomfortable.

“Don’t you have family to get home to, Clarke?” Lexa asks, not taking her eyes off of her profile. In doing so, she notices the way Clarke’s jaw clenches the moment Lexa says family. A quick glace down at the hands gripping the wheel show that her knuckles have gone white. She’s squeezing the wheel hard. Family is touchy. Something that Lexa notes. Not more than a few moments later, Clarke is smiling again.

“I’ll see them the whole summer. A few extra days out without me won’t kill them.” She says and it’s clear now that she didn’t say that for Lexa’s benefit – she said it for her own. Anything to make this trip last longer. Anything to keep her away from home for just a few more days. And Lexa understands that feeling. Better than she’d like to admit. There’s a glint in Clarke’s eye that’s familiar. It’s one she’s seen in her own mirror reflection often.

And if it were anybody else, Lexa wouldn’t give a damn. She would look out her window and say, ‘Just drive’. But there’s something about Clarke. She can’t place it or put her finger on it – but there’s _something_. It’s compelling and it’s magnetic and she’s only been in the car with her for five minutes and already, she’s got her feeling fluttering in her fingertips. That has to be some kind of record.

So instead of telling Clarke, as she probably should, to politely shove it, she nods. “Okay.” She says and she convinces herself that if she finds a place to stop, it’s because it looks interesting to her. It’s not for Clarke. Not for this girl she’s only known a few minutes.

But the way Clarke’s shoulders drop in obvious relief makes Lexa feel like she made the right choice.

-

They’re quiet for the first hour. Clarke has the radio turned up loudly and if the person in the passenger seat was anybody but this weird, brooding stranger, she would be singing along to the songs on the radio.

Lexa hasn’t turned away from the window since they started driving. There’s not much interesting to see – mostly just passing scenery though Lexa can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Clarke’s been wracking her brain for anything to say, anything to ask to break the silence.

There’s something unnerving about Lexa – about the dense way her eyes look. How everything about her seems heavy, like a rifle always loaded and ready to fire. And Clarke is curious as to what it might take to get Lexa to pull the trigger.

Traffic begins to slow and then it comes to a complete stop. Clarke takes her hands off the wheel because, if the long line of cars ahead of her is any indication, they’re going to be stuck her awhile. She looks toward Lexa, who is (unsurprisingly) still staring out window. Clarke wants to say something, is about to say something, when Lexa speaks first.

“Staring isn’t very polite, Clarke.” She murmurs, never tearing her eyes away from the window. Clarke looks back toward the road, where none of the cars in front of her have moved.

“I wasn’t-I didn’t _mean_.” She stumbles and there’s _no_ reason she should feel this unsettled by Lexa calling her out.

“Were you planning on asking me something or simply staring until I was forced to say something to you?” She speaks again, her words more annunciated this time tough her voice is still low. There’s no bite to words, though they themselves are a bit harsh. She suspects that Lexa doesn’t mean them negatively. It’s just how she speaks. She shifts in her seat so she’s facing Lexa.

“I’m sorry – I just can’t do the quiet anymore.” Clarke says and finally, Lexa tears her eyes away from the window. She looks at her with piercing eyes and Clarke feels like she’s being stripped and searched, turned inside out and gutted. It’s remarkable – how powerful a look can be. She tilts her head toward her.

“Alright.” Lexa relents, shifting in her own seat, though her back is still stiff as board. Clarke isn’t sure she’s seen her relax a single time since they’ve been on the road. “What do you want to talk about, Clarke?” She asks, her stare still heavy and intense. She’s so formal. Like everything’s a business negotiation.

“I don’t know. What’s your favorite color?” Clarke asks, waving a head in Lexa’s direction. Lexa furrows her brow.

“Isn’t that a bit…trivial?” Lexa says and Clarke shakes her head.

“Not at all. You can learn a lot about somebody by learning their favorite color.” Clarke says and Lexa’s eyebrows shoot up. Clarke watches as something in Lexa’s eyes soften only momentarily before the guard is back up again.

“Are you interested in getting to know me, Clarke?” Lexa asks, with maybe just the barest hint of a smile on her face. It’s just the smallest upturn of the corner of her mouth but it’s something. Clarke shrugs. She figures that maybe, that’s a loaded question so she looks over Lexa’s shoulder at the scenery behind her.

“I like orange. Like the color of the sunrise on a clear morning when it’s the only thing that you can see.” Clarke says with a smile on her face.

“I’ve never thought much about my favorite color. If I had to choose only one, I’d choose blue.” Lexa says with finality after a moment of silence.

“I have to think in color. I’m an artist. Everything’s about color. Which one’s right for the scenery, which one is right to evoke what feeling.” Clarke says, pressing on the gas as traffic has finally moved a little bit.

“That’s a lot of weight to put on such a trivial concept, Clarke. Color can’t convey emotion.” Lexa says and the heavy, guarded look is back again.

“Then you’ve never seen color in the right way.” Clarke responds, turning back toward the road because the cars are moving again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Lexa is looking down at her knees. She doesn’t respond.

-

It takes two hours before Clarke starts to sing along to the music on the radio. Lexa doesn’t mind it. Her voice is quite sweet.

She’d been correct in assuming that Clarke would be a good person to travel with. She drives at a good speed and well, she’s not the worst person to look at either. Lexa can’t stop herself from sneaking glances at her out of the corner of her eye. She notices that she moves her head in time with the music, singing the words under her breath. She taps her fingers on the wheel when they’re not moving and the _only_ word that Lexa can think of to describe it is….cute.

But she’s not a dog or a child so cute doesn’t seem like the right word.

Her stomach starts to grumble just before they drive into Sacramento. She’d eaten breakfast, though it had been at 6am. She puts a hand on her stomach and wills it to quiet. Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Hungry?” She asks. Lexa sighs. Clearly, her stomach had been louder than she’d anticipated.

“Yes.” Lexa replies and Clarke takes the next exit into the city. “Where are you planning on stopping?” She asks and Clarke shrugs.

“There has to be a McDonald’s around here somewhere, right?” She says and Lexa’s nose wrinkles. “What, are you not a fan?” Clarke asks. Lexa shrugs.

“I’ve never been before.” She replies in a soft voice and Clarke very nearly slams on the brakes. She looks over to her.

“You’re joking. There is no way. It’s a college student’s best friend.” Clarke says.

“I have a weekly grocery budget from my Father.” Lexa replies, “There’s no reason for me to get fast food.” Clarke shakes her head.

“We are getting you educated. You need to taste a Big Mac, Lexa.” And her name sounds so wonderfully sweet coming from her mouth it sends a jolt of electricity down her spine.  It surprises her. Nearly shocks her so much she jumps in her seat. She stares at Clarke, something inside of her slipping. She doesn’t smile but she feels her eyes go soft. Clarke is talking but Lexa isn’t hearing any of it. She’s just staring at Clarke.

She hasn’t felt that way about someone saying her name in.

Well. Long enough.

That was dangerous.

She’d known the girl for all of two hours. She means nothing. There’s not a damn way in the world that she’s going to make her feel anything. There’s just no way.

That isn’t how this works.

She’s better than that. She’s stronger than that. And maybe, more importantly, she knows better. She’d never be foolish enough to let someone she’d known for such a short period of time break the protection she’d spent so long building. It would be foolish and if there’s anything Lexa isn’t, it’s a fool. She’s much too smart for that.

Clarke pulls into a drive through and speaks into the monitor, ordering a few things off of the menu that Lexa is completely unfamiliar with. She avoids these types of places if she can. She prefers to make her own food. At least then she knows where it’s coming from. But on the road, she understands that certain sacrifices have to be made, including a few to her diet.

Lexa is about to reach into her purse and pull out her wallet when Clarke just shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I got this.” Clarke says, shooting her hand out to rest on Lexa’s arm and stop it from moving. Lexa looks down at it until Clarke moves it away.

“You’re already driving me across the country, I don’t need you to pay for my meals as well.” Lexa comments and she _tries_ to give it some kind of conviction but she can’t manage. She isn’t sure what it is about this girl that makes it impossible for her to stick to her rules. Clarke looks over at her with a smirk.

“You can pay for dinner.” She jokes.

And Lexa blushes.

-

The sun is setting on the horizon when her hands start to cramp. She’s been driving all day, they’d only stopped twice for food and frankly, she’s tired of driving. She looks over at Lexa, who is playing Trivia crack on her phone, and says, “I don’t know about you, but I’m just about done sitting in this car for today. Mind splitting the fee for a motel room?” Clarke asks and Lexa looks up.

“My phone is nearly dead. That would be good.” She agrees and Clarke gestures toward her phone.

“You can use mine to look for directions to the closest place.” Clarke says. She keeps her eyes on the road as Lexa picks it up. Her screen is locked.

“The code, Clarke?” She asks and Clarke is grateful for the fact that some of Lexa’s formality seems to be gone. At least she’s no longer speaking in MLA format.

“0714.” She says, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Lexa punches in the numbers.

“Do they mean something to you?” Lexa asks and Clarke looks over to her momentarily. She’s giving her that heavy stare again. Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Does what mean something to me?” She asks but she knows what Lexa’s asking. Clarke’s never really been good at hiding what she’s feeling. She wears her heart on her sleeve. Or in this case in her white knuckles and clenched jaw.

“The numbers. You tensed when you told them to me.” She says and there’s a clenching in her stomach and she feels like she’s going to vomit. It’s how she always feels when this is brought up. She sighs.

“Yeah, something like that.” Clarke mumbles and she stares intently at the open road in front of her. She doesn’t want to keep talking about this. “Can you just find us a motel please?” She asks and there’s a bite in the edge of her voice and the split second after she said it, she regrets it. Snapping at her roadtrip companion was probably not the best course of action. Not when they still have a day and a half worth of trip in front of them. But Lexa doesn’t seem to be offended – in fact, she laughs.

“As you wish, Clarke.” She responds and Clarke is stuck on the sound of her laugh. It’s musical – like a songbird singing in the early light of the morning. Nothing like her voice. Nothing like her. It isn’t harsh.

It doesn’t match.

She likes it though. It suits her much better than her harsh demeanor. There’s silence for a few moments as Lexa scrolls through Clarke’s phone. She clears her throat. “There’s a motel right off this next exit. Quite a few vacancies and only three reviews have reports of a rat problem.” Lexa….jokes? At least, Clarke is fairly certain that’s as close to joking as Lexa gets. So she laughs.

“Perfect. My roommate made me pack mouse traps anyway, just in case. We’ll take ‘em down.” Clarke responds and switches on her turn signal to switch lanes.

They pull off the highway and the motel is one of the first things that they see. The ‘vacancy’ sign is flickering on and off and honestly, it looks pretty shady. But it’s a place to sleep for the night. Anything to get her out of the front seat of the car.

They pay for the room in cash, half Lexa’s, half Clarke’s. Clarke gets the key and goes out to Lexa, who is waiting outside by the car. She holds up the key. “Ready to see our royal suite?” Clarke jokes and Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Clarke. We’re in a motel, not the Four Seasons.” Lexa responds and Clarke thinks that maybe her one joke earlier caused her to hit her quota. “We’ll be in peasant quarters. Maybe jester if we’re extremely lucky.” She continues, surprising Clarke and once again, making her laugh.

Clearly, there’s more to Lexa than she’d first thought.

-

The room is, much as she expected, comparable to the servant’s quarters she’s seen in her history books.

And there’s only one bed.

Lexa stops in the doorway, nearly causing Clarke to bump into her when she sees the single full bed in the middle of the room. Clarke pauses at her shoulder. “What? There a dead body in there?” Clarke jokes and Lexa looks at her over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“There’s one bed in here, Clarke.” She murmurs in response. She watches as Clarke’s face settles into an ‘o’ of surprise. She pushes past Lexa into the room.

“I swear I told her there was two of us.” Clarke says, a bit of a nervous edge to her voice and Lexa just shrugs. “I’ll totally take the floor, this was my bad.” She continues and Lexa furrows her brow. The bed is large. She sees no reason why they can’t just share it.

“Clarke, this bed is huge. We can share.” Lexa says, moving toward it and sitting down. “A bit stiff but it’ll do for the night.” She keeps going, putting her bag on the bed. Clarke is just looking at her with a stare that Lexa can’t read. “What?” She asks, something in her stomach turning.

“Nothing. You sure about sharing? I can take the floor, it really wouldn’t be any trouble. I’ve slept on worse.” She says and Lexa wonders if perhaps Clarke doesn’t _want_ to share a bed with her. Maybe she makes her uncomfortable. Wouldn’t be the first time and really, Lexa doesn’t care all that much. She’s not attached to Clarke. (Though the thought of Clarke being…disgusted by her makes her heart feel heavy and well, that just won’t do).

“If there’s a reason you don’t want to share a bed with me, Clarke, just say it.” Lexa says with an edge. Clarke’s eyes widen and she moves toward Lexa shaking her head.

“No, no. We can share. I was just making sure you were okay with it.” Clarke defends and for some reason that makes Lexa feel better. Maybe it does matter, just a little bit, what Clarke thinks of her.

“I wouldn’t suggest something I wasn’t comfortable with.” Lexa comments, dragging her fingers across the comforter, playing with some of the frayed edges. Lexa looks up at Clarke through her eyelashes only to find that thankfully, she’s smiling. She moves to sit next to Lexa and wow, her heart is suddenly beating quite a bit quicker than it was a moment ago. Maybe she should see if there’s any Urgent Care facilities around here because a heartrate that rapid surely can’t be healthy. Clarke looks over at her with a smile and there goes her stomach again. Lexa thinks she saw a vending machine on her way up the stairs. She could go for some HoHo’s. Clarke’s nose wrinkles.

“It is stiff. But it’s only for the night. We’ll survive.” She says, leaning back so she’s lying flat against the bed, her eyes trained toward the ceiling. Lexa twists so she’s watching Clarke over her shoulder. “God, I’m exhausted. Who knew being on the road for 12 hours would make your ass so numb?” She says and Lexa smiles, just a little, if only at the mental image of Clarke’s butt.

“I find that when you sit for that long, what you sit on generally does fall asleep.” Lexa counters and Clarke props herself on her elbows to give Lexa a glare, which only succeeds in making Lexa’s smile grow.

“Smart ass.”  Clarke grumbles and from anybody else, that would make Lexa angry, but for some reason, hearing it from Clarke just makes her want to smile even _harder_. She looks down and lets her hair fall in front of her face to hide her growing smile from Clarke.

After a few moments of silence, Clarke groans. “I’m starving. What do you think they’ve got by way of food around here? Think we’ll have to shoot our own wild boar?” Clarke comments and Lexa shrugs.

“I saw a vending machine on our way up.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks down at Clarke. “I’ll buy.” She continues, bringing up their earlier conversation from the car. Clarke laughs.

“Okay, deal. Get me some Cheetos. And some of those mini cookies.” She says, leaning her head back and exposing her neck, which transfixes Lexa momentarily. And then she clears her throat and she stands, taking her purse with her.

“I’ll be back shortly.” She says to Clarke, who gives her a wave without looking up.

Lexa tries to calm her rapidly beating heart as she makes her way to the vending machine out on the terrace.

-

Clarke can’t figure Lexa out.

One minute she’s practically a statue in the passenger seat of the car and the next, she’s offering to share a bed with her. It was beyond Clarke’s comprehension but….she can’t altogether say that she hates it.

Lexa’s interesting. Lexa’s a puzzle that’s always one piece short of being put together. She’s beautiful – that’s something Clarke can very easily see for herself, and she carries herself like she rules the goddamn world. It’s confidence Clarke’s not sure she could ever hope to possess.

And maybe that’s the reason Clarke feels…tingly whenever Lexa looks at her.

She’s powerful. She’s got a heavy gaze and a loaded stare – that’d be enough to unhinge anybody. There’s nothing else it could be anyway. She’s just fascinated by her. That’s all.

There are three things she does know for certain. She’s starving, she’s exhausted, and she owes Raven a call. She’d texted her about eight times while they were on the road and Clarke hadn’t answered any of them so she figured she’d make up for that in a phone call. Without moving from the spot where she’s laying on her bed, she pulls her phone from her pocket and hits call on Raven’s contact. She holds it to her ear while she waits her to pick up.

“Finally, I was starting to wonder if Lexa fed you a troll for safe passage across a bridge.” Raven says in lieu of greeting. Clarke laughs.

“No. We’ve yet to run into any trolls though I’m sure if we do, they’ll take jokes or a good anecdote instead of human flesh as toll payment.” Clarke responds.

“I doubt it. I hear trolls in the Midwest are super cannibalistic and really into blonde, white girls so I’d watch it, Griffin. You’re prime troll bait.” Raven deadpans and it sends Clarke into a fit of giggles.

“You’re ridiculous.” Clarke murmurs into the phone arching her back stretch herself out a bit. Sitting in a car for that long really doesn’t make a girl feel good.

“How has traveling with my witchy roommate been?” Raven asks and Clarke rolls her eyes at the pretty blatant insinuation about Lexa…again.

“Good. She’s good. I might even call her fun.” Clarke says. Raven snorts.

“We’re not talking about the same girl. I don’t think Lexa knows the meaning of the word fun.” Raven comments and Clarke bites her tongue. She wonders if it might be worth it to point out that really, Raven never really tried to get know Lexa in any way. She’d never once invited her to hang out with the group so she has no way to know if Lexa’s fun. But she figures that’s an argument for another time and really, she’s too tired to pick a fight with Raven about Lexa.

(And vaguely she wonders when in the past 12 hours, she became willing to argue with her best friend over this girl.)

So Clarke stays quiet and she tries to quell the urge to defend Lexa to Raven. She hears footsteps outside of the room so she says, “I’ve got to go. Lexa’s back with food and I’m starving. I’ll call you later, okay? Have a good first day at your internship! You’re going to kill it.” Clarke says, remembering that Raven starts her internship on Monday and she’s sure she won’t get a chance to talk to her again before. Though, she’s also sure that Raven will call her as soon as she gets out to tell her all about it. She’ll probably be home by then. As long as everything stays on schedule and for some reason, there’s a tug in her stomach at that.

Well. She knows one reason.

She hates being home.

But that’s.

Well that’s not what she wants to be thinking about right now.

She props herself up onto her elbows just as Lexa crosses the threshold of the doorway. Her arms are loaded with food from the vending machine, and a few drinks if Clarke is seeing correctly. She drops everything down on the bed next to Clarke. “I couldn’t choose so I bought one of everything.” She announces and Clarke stares at her for a moment before throwing her head back in laughter. When she rises her head, still giggling, Lexa’s eyebrows are furrowed. “What?” She asks and Clarke’s smile still hasn’t faded. She’s cute.

“Nothing. At least we have snacks for the road now. C’mon. Let’s dig in.” Clarke says, sitting up and moving backwards so there’s room in front of her for Lexa to sit. She sits on the edge and there’s still a pretty large amount of space between them. Clarke shakes her head, “You can move closer. I won’t bite. I promise the only food I’m interested in is on the other side of the bed.” And maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say because Lexa’s cheeks tinge red but she does Clarke says and moves backward, crossing her legs beneath her. Clarke reaches for the bag of Cheetos while Lexa reaches for a package of HoHo’s. “Starting with dessert?” She asks and Lexa smiles, though it’s barely there.

“Why save the best for last?” She says and it’s probably not meant to be profound but it strikes something in Clarke. She drops the bag of Cheetos and reaches for package of cookies instead.

“You’re right.” She replies as she opens the bag, smiling at Lexa the entire time.

-

They play scrabble on Clarke’s phone – a two player version that took them just about forever to find but it’s worth it because Lexa completely kicks her butt.

Lexa warns Clarke before the even start that she’s minoring in English, she knows a thing or two about words, but Clarke still went in with confidence. Confidence that Lexa, very rightly, took away from her as soon as she hit the first triple word score and ended up with 93 points. Lexa’s fairly certain the smug smirk hasn’t left her face at all since then.

Clarke pouts, for a few minutes after Lexa’s win, before she declares that she’s showering and she hopes that there’s no bugs hiding out in the towels provided by the motel.

Lexa clicks on the TV while she waits for Clarke because she figures she might as well shower as well. She finds Jeopardy and settles back against the pillows, answering the questions as they pop up.

She’d watched Jeopardy with her father all of the time. It was a pastime of theirs. Every so often her mother would join them but she knew it was their thing so she let them be. Lexa can’t quite remember the last time they’d sat down to watch anything together. Or the last time they’d sat down to do anything together. That was, if Lexa was being honest with herself, the real reason she was looking forward to Siberia. She hadn’t had much of a chance to spend any quality time with her father since she’d started college and frankly, she missed spending time with him. But clearly she’d missed him more than he missed her and that’s not entirely too surprising. Since the divorce, nothing was ever quite the same.

Lexa knows it’s because she looks just like her.

She sees it in pictures, because that’s mostly the only way she sees her mother, and at Lexa’s age, they looked identical. You wouldn’t be able to tell them apart and Lexa knows that’s why her father can’t stand to look her in the eyes. And it’s _fine_ it really is, she’s not upset, she’s never been upset but she does hate what it makes her miss out on. Siberia isn’t the first trip he’s canceled. She’s sure it won’t be the last.

So when she watches Jeopardy that night, she pretends that she’s eleven again. Bundled up in her blue footie pajamas and curled up against the side of her father, answering the questions with absurd answers that she knows don’t make any sense just for the chance to hear her father laugh and say, “No pumpkin, _this_ is what the answer is…” and explain exactly why that’s so.

She gets nearly every question correct.

Clarke comes out of the bathroom, in nothing but a towel, just before Final Jeopardy and Lexa nearly misses Trebec read out the question because all she can focus on is the look of the water dripping down the side of Clarke’s neck and disappearing into the top of the towel. Her collar bones, which are much more exquisite when they’re not halfway hidden by a jacket, don’t do much in the way of preventing Lexa’s jaw from dropping straight to the ground. Clarke shoots her a smile. “Sorry, I left all of my stuff out here.” She says and Lexa can’t think of anything to say, she’s not sure she’s even capable of forming words – so she just nods. She watches Clarke retreat back into the bathroom and it hits her then that maybe, just maybe, she’s totally fucking screwed.

-

Lexa wears silk pajamas and Clarke supposes that she isn’t really all that surprised.

She comes out of the bathroom in a matching peach colored tank top and shorts with her long, wet hair in a nearly finished French braid. Her fingers are neatly finishing up the last of the end. Clarke has the local news on, some story about a bank robbery gone awry, and she’s not all that interested but it’s something to keep her company while she waits for her eyelids to start to get heavy. She’s already underneath the covers, in her oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, and Lexa comes to sit next down next to her. She wrinkles her nose up at the television.

“Why is he robbing a bank with a paper bag over his head?” She murmurs and Clarke is in the middle of chewing when she replies,

“Didn’t have a ski mask, probably.” And Lexa looks at her over her shoulder, blankly for a moment, before she laughs. She pulls her knees up and tucks her feet underneath the covers. She yawns into her elbow and Clarke really can’t help but watch her.

She’s exquisite in the way she moves and Clarke knows there’s something underneath that gruff exterior that she presents. She’s not totally heartless. There’s no way anybody can be _totally_ heartless. Not unless they’re some kind of sociopath and despite a few warnings from her friends, she’s fairly certain that Lexa’s not like that.

But she’s tired now so she figures she’ll have to piece together more pieces of the Lexa puzzle in the morning. Lexa is looking down and the ends of her hair and Clarke stares for a moment, a faint smile on her face. Just as Lexa is turning her head, Clarke’s stomach flips.

-

They fall asleep on separate sides of the bed. Clarke on the left, Lexa on the right.

When Lexa wakes up, she’s tucked beneath an arm and there’s blonde hair making its way into her mouth. She’s curled into a ball and there’s a body pressed firmly against hers. It takes her a few moments to remember exactly where she is. In a motel. With Clarke. In a bed. With Clarke.

And oh god, Clarke is pressed against her, pulling her in. Lexa holds her breath. For a moment, she revels on how Clarke feels against her. How the contours of their body seem to fit together as if they were two pieces cut from the same mold.  And then Clarke pulls her in even closer yet and she realizes that she’s not doing this on purpose. She’d folded against Lexa in her sleep, something subconscious, and Lexa has got to slip out from underneath her hold before she wakes up and realizes and all of this just becomes totally and completely –

Her hand is moving.

Clarke is making noises.

She’s breathing heavily into the side of Lexa’s neck and Lexa thinks she can feel her eyelids fluttering open. Lexa braces herself.

It doesn’t seem to take more than a few moments after that for Clarke to realize exactly what’s happened and her arm is off of Lexa so quickly it’s like she’d just been burned. She shoots up in bed and Lexa, finally, leans up and stretches out her back. She turns toward Clarke, who is a rather unflattering shade of lobster red. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen. I know I’m a tactile sleeper but I figured since I fell asleep facing opposite you, nothing would happen.” Clarke rambles out an apology and really it’s kind of cute but Lexa doesn’t really need to hear it so she just gives her a smile.

“It’s fine, Clarke.” She says and she means it. It’s been…too long since she’s been held and while she doesn’t often like to admit to missing it, she does. It felt nice to wake up with someone’s arms around her again. Though she knows it’s not a feeling she should get used to, she does allow herself just this one fleeting moment of enjoyment because she’s not sure when the next time she’ll get it will be.

“Next time, I won’t fondle you in your sleep, I swear.” She replies and Lexa laughs. She tries to ignore the fact that her heart seems to skip a beat at Clarke’s declaration of next time (and really, she should see if there’s an urgent care facility nearby because these things her heart is doing are particularly worrisome).

She looks at the clock on the side table next to the bed. 10:00am. They’d slept in. She lets out a string of swear words in German, which she knows Clarke won’t understand. “We’ve overslept. We need to get on the road or we’ll have no hope of making it back to Maryland by Monday.” Lexa says and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if she really wants to. She turns to Clarke, who is looking out of the window with her hair falling in front of her face. She shrugs.

“Or we could….not?” Clarke suggests. Lexa furrows her brow.

“What do you mean?” She asks and Clarke turns to her with a half sort of smile on her face.

“Look, I don’t have a lot waiting for me back home. This trip is probably the most exciting my summer will get. We can make this a vacation, Lexa. Take as long as want. See a bunch of ridiculous monuments like the world’s largest ball of twine.” She pitches and Lexa takes a moment. There’s nothing really waiting for her back in Maryland. Besides a Mother that she can barely stand to look at for more than a few seconds at a time without wanting to scream at her and a few pretty beaches but those exist everywhere. So slowly, she nods.

“Alright. I don’t see why not.”

And really, the look on Clarke’s face is worth it.

Even when her heart skips another beat.

(And she knows what it means, she does. The rapid beating of her heart, the occasional skipping of beats, the bending of the wills, she knows. She gets it. She just knows how weak she is for feeling it.

So she’ll pretend that she doesn’t.

Because feelings are weakness.

And Lexa is _not_ weak.

Not anymore.)

-

Clarke doesn’t know what possess her to ask. Maybe it’s the fact that she woke up with her arms wrapped around this girl and it didn’t feel strange. It didn’t feel out of the ordinary. It felt like she was supposed to be there. And maybe that was something worth exploring. That was certainly something that was going to take more than a day and a half to figure out. And really, Clarke’s always wanted to go on one of those cross country road trips that you see in movies all of the time. She’s just never had the chance.

And now she has the chance and she’s going to take it and run with it because she doesn’t want to let Lexa slip away. Not before she untangles her web and figures out what kind of secrets she keeps tied in between the strings.

And maybe it’s because it’s true, what she told Lexa about there being nothing for her back at home. She was looking forward to a summer of loneliness and spending time with her mother, which frankly is the last thing she wants to do. And there’s nowhere she can go to escape because every inch of that city is haunted by a memory that Clarke never wants to revisit in her life. So staying away as long as possible is the best, most logical solution. Even if she has no idea where they’re going to go or where they might end up.

Anywhere is better than D.C. That much she knows for sure.

She’s waiting by the car for Lexa, who is gathering up the last of her things from the room. Clarke wonders how they’re going to manage, just the two of them on the road for god only knows how long. They still barely know each other and frankly, Clarke’s fairly certain she’s going to run out of money before they hit Michigan. So they can’t stay on the road forever but they can stay for as long as the budget allows and that’s what Clarke fully intends to do.

She wants an adventure. She wants something new. And for some reason, she can’t think of anybody she’d rather be doing something new with than Lexa.

Lexa finally comes down from the room, her bag hitched over her shoulder and her hair still in the French braid from the night before. Clarke wonders what it looks like down and wild. She’s never seen it like that before. It’s always braided in some way. Maybe at some point on this trip she’ll get to see it. She hopes so.

Lexa opens the passenger seat and Clarke moves around to get into the driver’s seat. She puts her foot on the pedal and pulls out of the driveway. Lexa pulls a paper map from her purse and she says, “The gentleman working the front desk told me that we’d find quite a few tourist destinations marked on this map, if we chose to use it.” And it looks messy and complicated and if they follow it, chances are they’re going to get lost but Clarke can’t quite imagine doing a road trip any other way. What’s the fun in using phones? So she nods.

“Alright, sounds good to me.” She replies. Lexa rolls down the window and asks over the sound of blowing wind,

“Where do you want to go?” And she kind of has to yell because Clarke is going kind of fast and the wind is blowing hard through the window but Clarke hears her just fine. She shrugs. She takes one hand off of the wheel. She points to a random spot on the map.

“Anywhere.” She says. “Just give me an adventure.”


	2. you take my hand and drag me headfirst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah so you may have noticed that the anticipated number of parts has changed from four to ‘?’. that’s because, after doing some planning, i realized that four is not quite enough to tell the story but i’m still not sure how many parts there will be. more than four, less than ten will be my guess.

Turns out that Clarke’s finger lands on the middle of a body of water - not exactly something they could drive right to.

But they’re not even halfway through Nevada and Clarke honestly isn’t sure where the hell they’re going to go and Lexa isn’t saying anything. She’s looking down at the map, which is spread across the tops of her bare legs, and her hair, which is still in the braid she plaited this morning is shielding most of her face. Clarke watches her out of the corner of her eye. She’s dragging a finger across the thruway lines on the map. “If we continue on this route Clarke, we’ll be home before sunset tomorrow.” Lexa murmurs and Clarke leans her head back against the headrest.

“I know.” She mutters. She watches Lexa’s finger move across the page and she looks down to the corner of map. Lexa’s phone is resting just underneath the map and it buzzes. Clarke glances down at it while Lexa just bites down on her bottom lip and very determinedly doesn’t look at it. “Are you going to get that?” Clarke asks because she’s able to read the name on the screen and it says ‘Mom’ and it isn’t the first time that she’s called. Lexa shakes her head.

“I wasn’t planning to, no.” She murmurs in response. Clarke raises an eyebrow. They go quiet for a few moments, some country song Clarke doesn’t know all that well playing in the background. The buzzing eventually stops but Clarke keeps one eye on the screen and she sees a voicemail notification pop up. She wants to keep her mouth shut because she knows it’s not her place to ask - really, she would hate it if somebody just started asking her about her personal business, but her curiosity eventually wins out.

“So do you just screen your mothers calls for fun or?” Clarke asks and Lexa glances up from the map with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

“I’m failing to see how that’s any of your business, Clarke.” She says and it’s like she’s on the defensive again, which Clarke supposes shouldn’t be much of a surprise. She is prying. Clarke shrugs.

“It’s not. You’re right. Sorry.” She mumbles, turning her eyes back to the road. And at first she thinks she’s going to let it drop because it really isn’t any of her business but she wants to know Lexa, especially if they’re going to be travelling the country together. Maybe it would be valuable to know if Lexa is avoiding her Mom because she’s calling from prison or Mom is actually just a cover for her parole officer. “I take it you two aren’t close.” Clarke says and she can hear Lexa’s exhale. She’s silent for a moment and Clarke thinks she’s not going to answer. She wouldn’t be surprised. She hears the crunching of the pages of the map and another loud exhale.

“No. Not particularly.” She replies in a low voice and she swipes at her phone. Clarke watches as she presses dial on her voicemail but lowers the volume so she can barely hear what’s being said. She presses the delete button before the message even has the chance to start.

“You’re not even going to listen to it?” Clarke asks and Lexa doesn’t meet her eyes as she shakes her head.

“There’s no reason to.” She replies with a chilling sort of nonchalance that does unnerve Clarke to a degree. But she is still curious.

“She’s probably worried about you.” Clarke continues to speak and Lexa slams her hand down against the map on her thigh.

“This is none of your business, Clarke.” She says harshly and it’s clear now that Clarke’s overstepped. She should have stopped after the first question. Clarke feels her face flush slightly and she focuses her eyes back onto the road. She turns the volume up on the radio to drown out the silence.

-

Lexa realizes that she probably shouldn’t have snapped at Clarke.

But there are two things that Lexa will not talk about, with anybody, under any circumstances. Costia and her Mother.

She’d given Clarke more than she needed to know by telling her they weren’t close. That’s just….as much information that Lexa is willing to fork over. No matter how beautiful the girl. She knows better than that now. A pretty face doesn’t always mean a trustworthy personality. That is, unfortunately, something Lexa knows all too well. She supposes it’s a valuable lesson to have learned. Especially as young as she learned it.

Just after she clears the voicemail from her inbox, she pulls up Google. If they’re going to turn this into something interesting, they’re going to do it right. And that includes finding places to go. Destinations. Lexa’s never been one to do a trip half-assed. If she’s going to travel cross-country, she wants to see every part of it that she can.

There’s part of her that wants to suggest Vegas, if only because she’s never been, but there’s nothing about the hustle and bustle of the big city, casino life that interests her. That’s not what a road trip is about. She’d much rather see what other, more natural, wonders the states have to offer.

Google tells her that Lake Tahoe isn’t too far out of their way, actually just a few minutes, and she’s never been. Maybe it’s too soon to stop but it’s somewhere and they won’t just be driving aimlessly. Plus, there’s beaches. And Lexa loves beaches. She’s sure there will be something Clarke is interested in there as well. It’s a huge vacation spot, and it must cater to people with varied interests. It will probably be jam packed with people but again, it’s somewhere.

If Clarke wanted an adventure, well this would just have to be the start.

Lexa glances up from her phone and watches Clarke for a moment. Her eyes are focused on the road. She only has one hand on the steering wheel (which in and of itself unnerved Lexa but she figures she has no right to tell Clarke how to drive). Her other arm is resting on the window sill, her head resting on her closed fist. The window is wide open and it’s blowing her hair back, though most of it is contained by her sunglasses which are resting on the top of her head. The early morning sun is hitting the side of her face and making her eyes shine. She really is rather beautiful.

Lexa’s heart starts doing that thing where it beats just a bit too fast and Lexa has to look away before her heart beats into her throat and right out of her. She clears her throat. She figures she should apologize for snapping before she throws out a suggestion. “I apologize, Clarke, for snapping at you.” Lexa says though she doesn’t look at her. She can feel Clarke’s eyes on her though and it makes the hair on her arms rise.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have kept trying to butt into your business.” Clarke says and Lexa manages a glance at her through her periphery. She’s still looking at her and Lexa’s stomach twists. It’s unnerving how Clarke’s eyes manage to make her feel both like she wants to vomit and like she wants to fly.

“Regardless, I should have kept my temper.” Lexa continues and that much is true. She knows how to keep her emotions in check and usually, it’s easy for her to keep her anger contained at the mention of her Mother but for some reason hearing Clarke ask her these questions? Well it’s like any kind of restraint she has inside of her snaps and she just can’t keep herself in check anymore. It’s a freedom she hasn’t allowed herself in quite some time and one she most certainly doesn’t miss. But Lexa’s fairly sure she’s got everything back under control now.

Clarke has a half sort of smile on her face and Lexa’s stomach drops again.

Okay.

So maybe she doesn’t.

-

They have to stop for gas and Lexa offers to drive. Clarke leans against the trunk of the car while she holds the pump and she watches the numbers rise.

“You’ve been driving this whole time, Clarke. I’ll drive us down to Tahoe.” Lexa offers and Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to need to see your license and registration first.” Clarke says, taking on a mock-gruff tone. Lexa stares at her with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows for a moment and Clarke starts to feel like maybe she can’t quite say anything right to her. And then Lexa, slowly, starts to smile and Clarke feels like a thousand pound weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

(And really, she’s not all too sure why she feels like she has to impress Lexa or make her smile but she does so this feels good. Like she’s won something.)

“So is that a yes?” Lexa asks. Clarke nods.

“That’s a yes.” She responds with a small laugh. “I can control the radio.” She says, watching the numbers slowly climb until her tank is full and she pulls the gas pump from the car. “Keys are in the ignition.” Clarke says as she walks around to the passenger side of the car. She opens the car door and slides in, immediately kicking her feet up onto the dashboard. She knocks her sunglasses off the top of her head with a finger and allows them to fall in front of her eyes. She rolls the window all of the way down and she waits for Lexa to get in.

The car is still running so Clarke uses the dial on the radio to try and find a station that’s coming in. She supposes she could google and try and figure out what radio stations are what in this area but...that’s a shortcut and Clarke’s not interested in taking any shortcuts.

She’s halfway through the 80’s when Lexa climbs into the car and snaps her seatbelt in. She grips the steering wheel tightly and Clarke watches her knuckles go white. She moves the seat back and adjusts the mirrors. She straightens her shoulders and presses her foot down on the gas, pulling them out of the station. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the road and Clarke can’t help but watch her.

Finally, Clarke has a view of her face that’s not obscured by hair. Her profile is, like the rest of her, practically fucking unreal. She looks like someone that should only exist in a dream. Or a myth.

She just doesn’t look real.

But she is real and she’s driving really, really slowly. Clarke stares at her as she very slowly inches her way back onto the highway. “Lexa. Why are you driving three miles an hour?” Clarke asks and she’s amused, really she is, but they’re really not going to get anywhere if she doesn’t speed it up just a smidge.

“I’m trying to get a proper feel for your car before I floor it, Clarke,” Lexa says and Clarke chuckles. “I need to know how it moves.” She mutters and Lexa feels the car speed up just slightly.

“Alright, Ford.” Clarke murmurs and leans back against the seat. At the speed the car is moving, there’s not a lot of wind blowing through her hair and honestly - she’s sweating. She’s glad Lexa suggested Tahoe. She may not love the water but she’ll take the opportunity to cool off.

(And there’s part of her brain that knows one of the reasons she’s looking forward to this is having the chance to see Lexa with her hair down - literally.)

Clarke keeps toying with the dial on the radio and finally, she stumbles on a station that’s playing top 40 hits. She hears the beginning notes of Uptown Funk and she has to turn it up - there’s no way she can’t dance to this. She’s pretty sure it’s illegal. In all fifty states.

She bobs her head and Lexa glances over to her. As the beat begins to pick up, Clarke starts to play drums against her bare legs. Clarke can’t stop herself from singing along to the backbeat even though Lexa is looking like she would rather be anywhere else but in the car with Clarke. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t love this song,” Clarke exclaims and Lexa raises an eyebrow but her eyes are still on the road.

“It isn’t exactly the sort of music I seek out.” Lexa replies. Clarke snorts. She continues to sing along and Lexa is watching her out of the corner of her eye with an amused kind of smirk on her face. Clarke reaches out and pokes her on the forearm. Lexa glares though it lacks any sort of conviction.

“Oh come on. I know you know this, Lexa. I won’t judge you for singing along.” Clarke says as the song hits its chorus.

“I’m not singing along, Clarke. I’m driving.” Lexa says. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“You can multi-task!” She says and throws her head back, shaking her shoulders as Bruno belts out ‘I’m too hot (hot damn)’. Lexa shakes her head.

“I don’t sing and drive.” She mutters and Clarke pouts for just a moment.

“You are no fun.” Clarke replies and Lexa shrugs. Clarke is still dancing to the beat, her fingers tapping along on the sill of the window.

“I’d rather be boring than dead.” She replies and Clarke just turns toward the window, taking her feet down from the dashboard. She sits upright and sticks her head out of the window just slightly. Lexa’s managed to speed up quite a bit and they’re actually travelling the speed limit so her voice carries as she yells the lyrics of the song out of the window. “Clarke!” Lexa exclaims, which makes Clarke giggle. “Put your head back in the car. Are you a dog?” She hisses out and that only succeeds in making Clarke laugh more.

“Relax. You wouldn’t sing with me so I had to have a duet with the wind.” She says nonchalantly and Lexa’s jaw is clenched and she’s gripping the steering wheel tightly again.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept all parts of your body inside of the car, Clarke.” She replies and her voice is shaky - not something Clarke is used to hearing. So she nods instead of laughing.

“Alright.” She murmurs in reply, leaning back and kicking her feet up on the dashboard again.

Yeah, maybe she really can’t do anything right with Lexa.

-

They drive in silence.

Lexa knows she’s got two strikes on her now with Clarke. She’s managed to snap twice in less than an hour but when Clarke shoved her head out the window, Lexa felt her heart leap into her throat and maybe it was foolish because Clarke is a grown adult and a car window is small but all Lexa could see was something bad happening. Like a semi coming down the road and decapitating her.

And Lexa doesn’t want Clarke to be anything but safe.

Which maybe is ridiculous because they’re not even friends but Lexa is fairly certain that she couldn’t live with another bad thing happened to someone, anyone, on her watch.

So really, it wasn’t about Clarke at all. It was about her.

(At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.)

Clarke’s turned down the volume on the radio and Lexa hopes this isn’t the way the rest of the trip is going to go. Lexa knows that if she wants to turn this thing around, she has to start...letting go.

They’re about 10 minutes from Tahoe, if the signs on the highway say anything and Clarke is playing something on her phone. The game is silent but Clarke isn’t. She’s swearing under her breath, which admittedly, amuses Lexa. “What has that game done to you?” Lexa asks softly and Clarke looks up, surprised. She smiles even though it’s weak.

“I can’t get past level 17.” She mutters. Lexa spies the Tahoe exit and flicks the turn signal on and switches lanes. Lexa lets her eyes flick down to the phone in Clarke’s hand, just for a moment. They’re finally off the highway and Lexa pulls the car over. Clarke is staring at her with raised eyebrows and Lexa can practically hear her thinking what the fuck?  “May I?” She asks, reaching her hand out for the phone. Clarke nods and hands her the phone.

It’s a game that Lexa recognizes. She’s beaten it twice. She had some difficulty with this level but not much so she puts the car in park and takes her hands off of the wheel. She notices Clarke watching her and that makes her fingers shake just slightly. But she manages to beat the level in just just a few seconds. She hands the phone back to Clarke. “There.” She says, a satisfied smile pulling at the side of her mouth. Clarke looks down at the phone, then back up at Lexa, with wide eyes.

“How did you do that?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“I have some experience with that game.” She replies, putting the car back into drive and putting her hands back on the wheel.

“You are my hero.” Clarke says and while it’s clear she’s joking, Lexa still feels heat creeping across her chest and up to her ears.

“It’s not a big deal, Clarke,” She says as she pulls back into traffic. Clarke is smirking and Lexa wishes she would stop looking at her because she’s fairly certain that Clarke’s eyes are burning her up more than the sun. “We’re almost there,” Lexa mutters, gesturing toward the sign that says ‘Tahoe - 5’.

“Finally,” Clarke says. “I’m sweating.” She looks over at Lexa, who is still looking very determinedly at the road, “So where to first? Motel? Right to the beach?” Clarke asks and Lexa glances down at the clock on the radio. It’s almost noon.

“We should find a place to eat.” Lexa suggests just as Clarke’s stomach lets out a loud rumble, which causes both of them to laugh, though Lexa’s is more of a chuckle.

“Sounds good to me.” Clarke replies.

Lexa tries not to think about the fact that she even finds Clarke’s rumbling stomach adorable.

-

It takes them nearly forty more minutes to find a restaurant. And that’s not for lack of available places - it’s mostly due to the fact that they couldn’t agree on what kind of food they wanted. Lexa wanted Italian. Clarke thought that was more dinner oriented. Mexican? Gives Lexa gas (which she only admitted under the threat of tickling and Clarke’s fingers hovering dangerously close to her ribcage). They finally settle on a small roadside diner that has a sign indicating ‘best breakfast in Tahoe - served all day!’ and apparently breakfast food is something that they can both agree on.

Lexa parks the car and Clarke has the door open before the car has even properly stopped. She stretches out and turns her face up toward the sky. “I’ve never been happier to feel the sun on my face.” Clarke exclaims and she looks to her left, where Lexa is now standing with an amused half-smile (and it occurs to Clarke that she’s never seen her give anything more than that. She wonders what it might take to get a full smile out of that girl).

“Clarke, the sun has been on you the whole drive.” Lexa says and Clarke shakes her head.

“Only through a window.” Clarke replies. “This is pure, unadulterated sunshine, Lexa. Enjoy it.” And Lexa just shakes her head.

“Come on, Clarke.” She says, moving toward the entrance of the diner. Clarke watches her walk. Clarke’s sure she’s never seen someone with such good posture before. She doesn’t seem to slouch - ever. She walks like she’s royalty. Like everybody else around her is just a peasant she’d have no problem stepping all over to get where she needs to go.

And, if Clarke’s being honest, it kind of does it for her.

Lexa pauses at the door and turns her head around. “Well? Are you coming?” She asks and Clarke tries to shake herself from this headspace because there’s no way she can be thinking about Lexa like that. They’re barely even friends.

So she walks toward Lexa, who holds the door open for Clarke, allowing her to walk in first.

The inside looks…..exactly how Clarke expected it to look. Except, there are wooden benches instead of chairs, which Clarke supposes makes sense with all of the outdoorsy-ness that Tahoe’s all about. There’s a waitress at the front podium, leaning down and looking like she wants to be anywhere but here. Lexa clears her throat. “Table for two, please.” She says and for some reason, Clarke’s stomach twists (in a pleasurable way) at hearing Lexa say ‘table for two’. The waitress is chewing her bubble gum, loudly, and she doesn’t look up when she gestures with her thumb to her left. She grabs menus and says, “Right this way.” Without any sort of enthusiasm. Lexa turns back toward Clarke and gives her a wide eyed look that Clarke reads as ‘she’s in a worse mood than I am’. Clarke gives her a smile back.

She seats them at a booth and they sit across across from each other. “Your server will be with you momentarily.” The girl says in all of her nasally glory.

“They must not value customer service here.” Lexa muses as she opens the menu and begins to scan it. Clarke snorts.

“You don’t need friendly waitstaff when you have the best breakfast in Tahoe.” Clarke jokes and Lexa looks up from over the menu with amused eyes.

“Right, of course. How could I forget.” She replies, flitting her eyes back down to the menu. Clarke opens hers. The whole first two pages are dedicated to various kinds of breakfast foods and Clarke honestly isn’t sure what half these foods are. There’s silence between them while they both look at the menu’s until an incredibly chipper voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hi, my name is Wendy and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you anything to drink to start?” Clarke looks up, a smile on her face, only to find that the waitress' eyes are locked on Lexa, who has still yet to look up from her menu. Clarke clears her throat, which tears Wendy’s eyes away from Lexa and Clarke can see her smile drop as she turns to look at Clarke.

“I’ll have a coffee, thanks.” Clarke says and Wendy’s smile is tight as she writes it down. Then she’s looking back over at Lexa with wide, interested eyes. Lexa looks up only momentarily to say,

“I’ll take a green tea.” And Lexa barely spares her an extra glance, which makes Clarke feel a vague sense of satisfaction.

“Perfect, I’ll have that right out for you.” Wendy says and still, her eyes don’t leave Lexa. Clarke contemplates the merits of spilling her own scalding hot coffee on her bare legs. And really, she doesn’t quite know why. She turns her attention back to the menu and tries to ignore the tightening in her stomach.

It doesn’t take her more than a few seconds to decide on chocolate chip pancakes. They’re her favorite - always have been. And she sees no point in straying from the good stuff that she knows. She puts the menu down and she watches Lexa for a moment. She’s staring at the menu as if it’s a complex math problem she can’t quite solve (and Clarke wonders if that’s what she looks like whenever she looks at Lexa). She smiles. “It’s a menu, not the proof for fifth degree polynomials.” She says with amusement and Lexa glances up, only momentarily.

“Not everybody has the ability to decide on a whim, Clarke.” She murmurs.

“I just know what I like.” Clarke replies and Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t that get boring?” Lexa starts and Clarke furrows her eyebrows. Lexa reads the confusion on her face and continues, “Only sticking to what you already know that you enjoy. Where’s the fun in that?” Lexa asks and suddenly, Clarke feels an awful lot like they’re talking about more than just chocolate chip pancakes.

“Well, you’re never disappointed.” Clarke says. Lexa shrugs.

“Life’s about more than never being disappointed, Clarke. Sometimes it’s worth it to be disappointed to find something new that excites you.” She says and her eyes are still on the menu. Clarke’s stomach twists. She picks up the menu again. She can order something other than chocolate chip pancakes if it makes Lexa stop spouting life lessons like a prophetical fountain.

Clarke doesn’t respond to her and she waits for the waitress to come back - which she does as soon as Lexa’s menu hits the table. The moment she’s back at the table, she’s staring at Lexa. Clarke’s nostrils flare.

“Have you decided what you’re ordering?” Wendy asks, looking straight at Lexa, who is still staring at Clarke. Lexa nods.

“I’ll have french toast with a side of bacon and fruit.” She says, still keeping her eyes trained on Clarke. Clarke bites down on her bottom lip. She sighs. Wendy doesn’t look in her direction and Clarke is starting to think that she’s not chipper because she loves her job.

“I’ll have…” And Clarke trails off, glancing at Lexa who is still staring at her with a blank expression that Clarke can’t quite read, “Chocolate chip pancakes.”

Maybe she’s not ready for something new quite yet.

-

Clarke keeps glaring at the waitress

Lexa’s not sure if she even notices that she’s doing it but considering Lexa has been unable to take her eyes off of Clarke since they first climbed into the car together yesterday morning, Lexa has noticed.

She’s not sure what the reason could possibly be. Wendy has been perfectly sweet to them, offering both Clarke and Lexa free refills though the menu clearly stated that each refill would cost fifty cents. She even gave Lexa extra strawberries (and Clarke was very quick to point out, in a rather grumbly fashion, that they were formatted in the shape of a heart which Lexa is sure is just coincidence). She’s even been by to check on them multiple times, making sure they’re satisfied with their meals. Honestly, she’s just doing her job and doing it exceptionally well. Lexa doesn’t know what issue Clarke could possibly have with her.

Wendy has just left the table and Clarke is slumped against the back of the booth, glaring down at her chocolate chip pancakes. She’s gripping her fork so tightly, Lexa fears she may bend it and they’ll have a utensil charge on their bill. “You ought to loosen your grip, Clarke, before you bend it.” Lexa points out and Clarke huffs. “Are feeling alright?” Lexa asks because this is the crankiest she’s seen Clarke and maybe her stomach’s bothering her or she has a headache. Clarke nods.

“Peachy.” She mumbles, stabbing a piece of pancake and twirling it on her fork around a few times before dropping it back down on the plate. She sighs. “For supposedly having the ‘best breakfast in Tahoe’, these pancakes really fucking suck.” Clarke mutters, putting air quotes around ‘best breakfast in Tahoe’ to really hammer home her point. Lexa has already cleared her plate and clearly, Clarke has no intention of finishing her pancakes so Lexa waves over the waitress. Which just makes Clarke roll her eyes. “Great, here comes Pippi Longstocking.” Clarke murmurs and Lexa glares at her. What is her problem?

“Clarke!” Lexa exclaims and Clarke looks up at her with a raised eyebrow and a shrug.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the striking resemblance.” She says and while she has noticed that their redheaded waitress does look quite a bit like the fictional girl, she would never voice that opinion. Clarke rolls her eyes again as Wendy moves to stand at the foot of the table. Lexa glares sharply at her. She begs Clarke with her eyes to be polite.

“You doing okay?” Wendy asks, maintaining eye contact with Lexa. She nods.

“We’re actually finished so we’ll take the check.” She says and Wendy’s grin falters but she still moves to take the plate from in front of Lexa. She glances over to Clarke, who is practically trying to stab her with her eyes, and says,

“Can I get a to go box for you?” And Lexa wasn’t sure it was possible to smile sarcastically but Clarke manages to do it.

“No but you can get one for yourself.” She snaps and Lexa widens her eyes. She’s going to have to leave a really big tip to make up for this. Lexa clears her throat and brings the affronted waitress’ attention back to her.

“The check, please?” Lexa asks and there’s a edge of desperation in her tone because she really just wants this girl away from the table before Clarke says something else. Wendy nods and walks away. Lexa turns back to Clarke. “What the hell was that?” She hisses and Clarke shrugs.

“She rubbed me the wrong way.” Clarke says. Lexa takes a deep breath. She takes a moment to close her eyes and count backwards from ten. “She was flirting with you.” Clarke comments and Lexa’s eyes snap open.

“She was not. She was doing her job.” Lexa whispers harshly. Clarke snorts.

“Sure.” She mutters and Lexa wonders why it would matter if Wendy had been flirting with her.

“Clarke. She’s just a waitress.” Lexa reassures and really, she’s not quite sure why she feels the need to do so. They’re not anything. They’re barely friends. It’s not like Clarke’s jealous. That would be….impossible. Just. Impossible. Lexa doesn’t even let herself entertain the possibility. But she does continue, “And even if she were flirting, I’m not interested.” She confirms and she watches as Clarke’s eyes soften. And she tries not to think about the fact that this is a conversation that should be happening between two people who are dating not…..whatever they are. Their eyes remain locked until Wendy appears back at the edge of the table. Lexa tears her eyes away from Clarke and she tries to blink her away. She looks back up at Wendy, who is glaring at Clarke, but she pulls her eyes back toward Lexa. She rests the check down in front of her and winks.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She says, only to Lexa, and then walks away. Lexa looks down at the bill, scanning through the totals, and when she reaches the end, she notices something in written large, loopy script. A phone number. Lexa’s eyes widen.

Oh.

Oh.

Clarke leans over to glance at the bill and she grunts when she sees the scribbled phone number at the bottom. “Told you.” Clarke mutters and Lexa shrugs.

“It appears you were correct.” Lexa replies and she pulls her wallet out of her pocket. She takes a twenty and tucks it underneath the paper. She shrugs. “Let’s go.” She moves to stand and Clarke glances down at the bill.

“Aren’t you going to take it?” Clarke asks and Lexa shakes her head.

“No. It would be foolish to take it and lead her into believing that she’ll receive a call from me when I have no interest in calling her.” Lexa says plainly and she watches a smile begin to pull at the side of Clarke’s mouth and she feels butterflies erupt in her stomach at the sight of it. Clarke really is gorgeous when she smiles. The scowl didn’t suit her. Not the way a smile does.

“Alright.” Clarke says and she follows Lexa out of the booth. They make their way towards the door. “You didn’t need any change?” Lexa shakes her head.

“I left her the whole twenty. I figure $10 worth of a tip on a $10 bill is enough to make up for your extra commentary.” Lexa says and Clarke bites down on her lip.

“That was out of line. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Clarke says and she hangs her head. Lexa shrugs. She understands.

“You were speaking from an emotional place, wherever that might be.” Lexa says. While she hasn’t done that in quite some time, she understands what it’s like to do so. To feel as though you don’t have control over the words coming out of your mouth. Like you’re being controlled by this force within you that you want to reign in but you just can’t.

So she gets it. She gets Clarke.

She also knows what it feels like to be on the other end of that and really, tipping that waitress well was the least she could do. Clarke looks down at her hands.

“I should go back and apologize.” She mutters and Lexa shakes her head.

“No. It’s already done. There’s no use in apologizing when all you may get in return is a slap.” Lexa replies and Clarke’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. That’s….fair.” Clarke replies and Lexa pauses, waiting for Clarke to catch up with her. Once she does, Lexa knocks into her shoulder gently.

“Come on. Let’s find a beach.” She says and Clarke looks over at her with a smile.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.” She replies.

They walk back to the car with no space between them.

-

It takes Clarke much longer than she’d like to admit to process the fact that was, in fact, jealous.

And she still doesn’t quite know why but she does know that nobody has quite been able to make her feel jealous in quite a long time. She hadn’t been jealous of anybody or anything since Finn was dating Raven while they were on a break.

And she’s not foolish enough not to recognize the fact that she’s attracted to Lexa. Lexa is beautiful. She’s...exactly the kind of girl that lights Clarke’s mind on fire. She’s all haunted eyes and broken words. She’d be something beautiful to capture on paper.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

She doesn’t see Lexa as girlfriend material. She’s much too harsh. Not at all the kind of person who would mesh with Clarke’s lifestyle. She wouldn’t mind making out with her or doing just a little more than that but they wouldn’t make it as anything more than that. Casual.

And Clarke figures she was probably jealous because someone else was seeing what she was seeing. Maybe she feels just a little bit possessive of the good qualities she’s seen in Lexa. Maybe she wants to be the only one who gets to see them. And in retrospect, Clarke realizes it was stupid to be jealous of some random waitress who they would never see again anyway.

Lexa seemed to understand, though, and Clarke didn’t feel a need to explain herself. Not like she always felt like she had to with everybody back home. And that felt nice. Sometimes it feels good not to have to explain your actions away. Sometimes it feels good just to act without feeling like there has to be an explanation or a reason for it.

They pull into the lot of the first beach sign that they find. From the looks of it, there are no bathrooms, not even a porta potty. Clarke’s taken control of the wheel back and she chances a glance at Lexa, who is staring out of the window.

“So, you up for making a faux changing room out of a few towels?” Clarke asks and Lexa chuckles.

“It seems that would be our only option.” She responds. Clarke puts the car into park and she unlocks the doors. She climbs out and opens the trunk, ready to dig through her bags to try and find a bathing suit.

It takes a few minutes of digging to finally find one but she manages to pull out a multi-colored bikini and towel. She moves out of the way so Lexa can pull her one bag out of the trunk and look for her own suit. It takes her considerably less time to find what she’s looking for because she only has one bag. She has a conservative one piece, in the same peach shade as her pajamas. Clarke wonders if they were a matching set. She catches a glimpse of the label. Some designer she doesn’t know how to pronounce the name of and Clarke has to wonder just how well off Lexa is.

“You wanna go first?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“Sure.” She replies. Clarke gestures toward the car. Her windows are tinted, just slightly, so nobody on the other side will be able to see through. The parking lot is deserted anyway.

“I’ll hold up the towel.” She says and they move to the side. Clarke stretches the towel as far as her arms will take it and she looks away (or tries to) while Lexa takes off her layers.

And while the tinted windows account for nobody on the other side being able to see through, they certainly encourage someone on this side to look because Clarke can see the reflection of Lexa’s bare back against the window. She tries not to look - really. She keeps her head turned to the left but she can’t stop her eyes from wandering and staring into the black tinted surface of the window. She watches as Lexa reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra. Clarke swallows and clenches her eyes tightly shut. No. She can’t watch. She can’t be that fucking perverted. She was holding up the towel so nobody would be able to see Lexa’s body. That includes herself.

So she counts backwards from one hundred until Lexa clears her throat and notifies her that she’s finished changing.

Lexa’s got her arms crossed over her body, as if she’s trying to hide herself beneath her arms. She fidgets with the straps and Clarke leans over, untwisting the strap that Lexa can’t seem to get herself. She watches Lexa’s cheeks flood with color and Clarke smirks. “My turn.” She says, pinching the towel between her forefinger and her thumb. She holds it up and waits for Lexa to take it. Lexa reaches and grabs the towel, just underneath where Clarke’s fingers are resting and they touch. Clarke swears she feels sparks. They make eye contact and Clarke watches as Lexa’s pupils go wide. Clarke’s tongue darts out to lick her lips and Lexa’s eyes travel down to Clarke’s mouth. Clarke can see Lexa swallow.

Clarke takes a step toward Lexa and she thinks that maybe she wants to kiss her. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s just seen her nearly naked speaking but she wants to do it. She wants to know what her mouth would feel like against hers. If her tongue is as sharp as her wit. If it would be possible to kiss her speechless.

But then Lexa blinks and takes a step backward. She pulls the towel from Clarke’s grip and she moves to the other side of her, stretching the towel out. She doesn’t make eye contact and Clarke thinks maybe that was for the best. She’d gotten caught up in the moment.

But that doesn’t mean that the mental image of Lexa on her lips leaves her head.

-

Lexa tries to bring her heartrate down and she imagines all sorts of ugly things to try and prevent herself from feeling the effects of Clarke’s proximity any more than she already is.

She keeps her eyes trained on the concrete while Clarke changes. She doesn’t want to look up. She knows that it’s possible to see the reflection of Clarke in the windows of the car and she doesn’t even dare look up.

Though, Lexa doesn’t deny the fact that she wouldn’t mind seeing Clarke without clothing. But not this way. She’d rather it be voluntary.

Clarke finishes and alerts Lexa to it by the clearing of her throat. Lexa drops the towel and raises her eyes and Lexa is sure that her intake of breath could be heard across the parking lot. Clarke smirks but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Ready?” Clarke asks and Lexa blinks, making sure to keep her eyes on Clarke’s face and nowhere else. She nods.

“Yeah, let’s go.” She replies and it’s a little embarrassing just how breathless she sounds.

They walk together to the beach in silence, Lexa lost somewhere in her own head.

She can’t deny it anymore.

She’s attracted to Clarke.

There’s no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. And Lexa knows she’s been attracted to her since the moment she first saw her (which was quite a long time ago and she’s sure if she brought it up, Clarke wouldn’t remember).

But Clarke is the north fucking star and Lexa is a black hole that would only serve to swallow her whole. She knows she’d be no good for Clarke.

She’d destroy her. Because that’s what Lexa does to everything she touches. To everything she loves. She destroys it. She twists and turns and bends it until it’s unrecognizable.

And she never wants to do that to Clarke.

Lexa’s damaged goods anyway. There’s no way that somebody as bright and pristine as Clarke could look at her and want her. They’re just too different. Clarke is just too good.

Lexa doesn’t deserve her anyway.

Lexa watches the ground and she keeps her arms crossed against her body. In the back of her mind she hears whispers of, You don’t want to take up too much space, Lexa. Keep your legs crossed. Keep your arms around yourself. And so she does - keep her arms around herself. She even pulls them tighter against her stomach. She hates how she can still hear her echo.

She hates that she still listens.

It’s been years since she’s heard her say anything like that. Hell, it’s been years since she’s heard her at all.

She wishes she was strong enough not to listen to the echo when it does pop up. And usually, she is. Normally she can handle it. Normally she can listen to the voice and beat it silent. But apparently, not today.

And it’s been so long since they’ve been in the same room. Lexa knows that she shouldn’t have this kind of effect on her anymore but she does. She’s that voice in the back of her head that tells her she doesn’t deserve this. Deserve anything. And usually, she’s quite good at blocking it out. But, for some reason, since she’s been around Clarke, her ability to block out anything has gone out the window. She can’t control herself. Not the way she normally does. And that’s terrifying.

There’s a reason Lexa keeps all of these things bottled up and stuck to the farthest, darkest corners of her mind. They’re no good when they’re allowed to take over.

They finally reach the edge of the pathway, which led them through the woods, and the first thing Lexa sees when she clears the tree line is a naked man.

A full-frontal, nude man. She pauses. Her eyes widen. Clarke is a few steps behind her and she asks, “Why’d you stop?” Lexa doesn’t reply but Clarke catches up to where she’s standing and she gets the same eyeful that Lexa got. “Oh.” She continues.

“Clarke. Everybody on this beach is naked.” Lexa murmurs. Clarke inhales.

“Yes, Lexa, I can see that.” Clarke says through her teeth.

“Is this a nude beach?” Lexa asks and Clarke takes a few steps out onto the sand and manages to find a sign. She takes her bottom lip into her mouth and Lexa watches as she starts to laugh. She looks back at Lexa and she nods.

Of course. They managed to stumble on a nude beach.

There aren’t that many people but Lexa watches an old woman stand and she sees much more of her than Lexa feels she ought to have.

And there are a lot of penis’. Too many for Lexa’s liking. She glances down at the sand beneath her feet and she hopes that Clarke doesn’t decide that this is the time to try something new. Clarke moves back toward Lexa, a disgusted look on her face. “Maybe we should look at the signs next time.” She says, “I’ve seen too much of these strangers to be comfortable.” Clarke replies and Lexa exhales. Thank God.

“You want to find somewhere else?” Clarke asks and Lexa glances toward the sky, where the sun is still shining brightly in the sky but Lexa isn’t sure how long that will last.

“Maybe we should find a place to stay for the night first. Ask the motel attendants where to find a decent beach.” Lexa replies. “One that doesn’t include free shows of the local elderly.” Lexa says as she watches a gentleman exit the water and shake himself off like a dog. Lexa swears she tastes her lunch coming back up. “Let’s go. Now.” Lexa says, turning around. She hears Clarke burst into laughter and Lexa assumes that she turned around to see what caused Lexa’s face to contort.

“Maybe we should take a selfie with the members of the old folks home retreat in the background.” Clarke says, “Y’know, a pics or it didn’t happen kind of deal.” And Lexa laughs. As much as she’s sure it’s an invasion of privacy, the thought of being close enough to Clarke to take a picture together makes her heart flutter so she nods. Clarke brings her phone up and she gestures over to Lexa, who slides up next to her. Their shoulders are touching and Lexa doesn’t even have to force a smile.

She also doesn’t fake the laughter that comes when she sees the full-frontal image of the old man right between their smiling faces.

-

They find a decent looking motel and Lexa offers to pay.

Again, Clarke has to wonder just how rich Lexa is if she can afford to pay, without splitting the cost, for a night at the motel. To compensate, Clarke offers to pay for dinner. Lexa agrees with a shy smile.

The motel has a pool and they opt to stay there for a few hours instead of venturing out to find another beach. Clarke figures that it’s probably a safer bet to stay close. At least, there’s no way nobody will be nude.

Clarke sits on the edge of the pool with only her feet in the water. Lexa starts at the stairs and she wades quickly in the water. Clarke is not much a swimmer but it’s clear that Lexa is. Once she’s actually made it into the water, she dives beneath and swims the length like a professional.

Clarke doesn’t take her eyes off of her.

When she pops up next to Clarke, she asks, “Why aren’t you getting in, Clarke?” Clarke shrugs.

“I’m not much of a swimmer.” She comments and maybe that’s an understatement. Lexa is looking up at her with wide eyes and Clarke feels her stomach flip. How is it that Lexa manages to look sexy and adorable at the same time? Clarke’s fairly certain it’s not legal to look like that. She gets a wicked kind of smirk on her face and she reaches down into the water and splashes Clarke. Clarke’s eyes widen and she looks down at Lexa, who is struggling to keep her giggles at bay.

“You looked warm. I thought I’d cool you down.” Lexa comments and Clarke can’t help but smile.

“I’ll get you back for that.” She murmurs and Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“How do you intend to do that, Clarke? I’m already wet.” She replies, her smirk growing. Clarke narrows her eyes.

“When you least expect it. I’ll get you back.” She says and Lexa snorts.

“Of course you will, Clarke.” Lexa replies, pushing off the wall away from Clarke.

Just as she does, Clarke’s stomach begins to rumble and she starts to regret leaving the diner without really eating anything. Lexa looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have finished your pancakes.” Lexa says and Clarke bows her head, a blush covering her cheeks. Yeah, she should have.

But she spotted a vending machine on the way out to the pool so she pulls her legs from the water. “I’m going to get some Cheetos. Want anything?” She asks. Lexa shakes her head.

“I ate my lunch.” She jokes and Clarke glares. She gives Lexa the finger just before she turns to leave and Lexa’s laugh follows her as she walks back into the building.

She stands in front of the vending machine, a bag of Cheetos in hand, staring at a package of HoHo’s. She knows Lexa said she didn’t want anything but Clarke remembers that she ate them before anything else the night before and maybe she’ll get hungry later. Or is weird to buy them even though Lexa didn’t ask?

She decides just to do it. It’s a….friendly thing to do. Friends buy things from the vending machine for their friends, right?

Well. That would imply that they were even friends to begin with. And Clarke really isn’t sure that they are.

She walks back to the pool, HoHo’s in one hand and her own Cheetos in the other. She sits back down at the edge of the pool and dips her feet back in. Lexa swims back over to her as she opens the bag of Cheetos. Clarke gestures down to the package next to her. “I bought those in case you got hungry.” She says as nonchalantly as she possibly can. Lexa smiles, and it’s an actual full smile that Clarke isn’t sure she’s seen before, and it damn near takes her breath away.

“Thank you, Clarke.” She says, the smile still not leaving her face. They keep eye contact for a few more moments before Lexa breaks it, looking down at the water, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks and onto her ears.

“Want one?” Clarke asks, gesturing down to the bag in her hands. “Think you can catch it in your mouth?” Clarke asks, an amused smile on her face. Lexa furrows her brow.

“Isn't that a little childish? What if I miss?” She asks and Clarke shrugs.

“Then you eat Cheetos infused with chlorine. All the rage now.” Clarke jokes and Lexa chuckles.

“Alright. Try.” Lexa says, swimming out just a bit. Clarke takes a chip out of the bag and she aims. Lexa opens her mouth and Clarke throws it. Lexa has to crane her neck but she manages to catch it in her mouth. She smiles while she chews.

And Clarke thinks that yeah, they are totally friends.

-

Lexa showers after getting out of the pool and she’s in the middle of braiding her hair when Clarke comes back from picking up their takeout from the delivery boy at the front desk.

Clarke furrows her brow and she says, “Why don’t you leave it down?” And Lexa shrugs.

“It’s frizzy.” She replies and there’s that echo again. Put your hair up, Lexa. It’s huge. Honestly, keep it tame. You’re taking up too much space. Clarke looks like she wants to reach out, put a hand on her shoulder or her hair but she keeps it to herself.

“I think you should wear it down. It probably looks great.” She says nonchalantly and Lexa blushes. She unbraids the part of her that was already finished. She hasn’t left it down in quite a long time. Maybe it’s time to try something new. She shakes her hair out, running her fingers through it. She leaves the bathroom and moves to sit next to Clarke on her bed.

Luckily, or not so depending on how Lexa chose to look at it, this motel room had two beds. Clarke is already twirling her lo mein around a plastic fork and Lexa jumps down onto the bed. She reaches for the chopsticks that are sitting next to Lexa’s quart of rice. She takes them out of the packaging and reaches for the container of General Tso’s chicken. She handles the chopsticks like a pro and she barely notices that Clarke has stopped to stare at her. Lexa is in the middle of chewing when she finally notices Clarke’s slack jawed look. She furrows her brow. “What?” Lexa asks.

“How are you so good with those?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“I was taught by a woman in China a few years back while I was on vacation with my Father.” She replies with a shrug. “These are flimsy but they get the job done.” She says, lifting them and pinching them together. “My porcelain set is with my Father.” Clarke shakes her head.

“That’s incredible. Think you can teach me?” Clarke asks and Lexa nods. She doesn’t see why not. She gestures to the unopened set of chopsticks and says,

“Grab those. I’ll show you how to hold them.” Clarke listens and pulls them from the wrapper. Lexa puts down her own pair and holds the tops of Clarke’s. She situates them properly between Clarke’s fingers, adjusting them as well as she can. She moves her hands down to Clarke’s fingers. “There. Keep them like that.” Lexa whispers, bringing her eyes up Clarke’s own. She’s biting down on her bottom lip and Lexa hadn’t realized just how close they were sitting. She swallows. This is the second time today they’ve been dangerously close to each other and Lexa’s heart is racing. Clarke releases her lip from between her teeth and lets her jaw drop. She leans in just slightly and then Lexa pulls back, clearing her throat. “As long as you keep your fingers in the correct position, you should be fine.” She murmurs and Clarke nods.

“Yeah, okay.” She responds and Lexa feels like her heart is in her throat.

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to handle the rest of the trip.

-

Clarke figures that after two days on the road, they deserve to unwind. So she goes to the local liquor store, after getting directions, and buys two bottles of vodka. She shows them to Lexa and says, “We’re going to have some fun. Come on, let’s hit that beach. I think the old folks field trip is probably over.” She suggests and Lexa looks skeptical but eventually she agrees.

They drive out and Clarke is correct in her assumption.

The beach is empty. There’s no lifeguards or anybody in sight. Clarke’s got a blanket, liquor, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper to chase the alcohol and Lexa holds onto a plastic bag full of snacks from their vending machine run the night before. Her hair is down and as Clarke suspected, it looks gorgeous. Stunning, even. She looks much more...human with her hair down. Less like a marble statue Clarke feels terrified to touch.

Clarke lays the blanket down and opens the first bottle of vodka. She takes a few gulps without making a face and Lexa looks at her in awe. She shrugs. “Here.” She hands the bottle over to Lexa, who only takes a few sips and nearly spits it out. Clarke laughs. “Not a drinker?” She asks and Lexa shakes her head.

“Not hard liquor, no.” She replies, “I prefer wine.” She continues but she brings the bottle of vodka back up to her lips and continues to drink.

They take turns with the bottle and it doesn’t take long for Lexa to get completely smashed.

She stands up and digs her toes into the sand. “It feels like mud, Clarke. Grainy mud.” She says through giggles and Clarke is laughing at her. Lexa stretches her arms out and she twirls. “The air smells so wonderful. Like salt and freedom.” She says and Clarke can’t help but watch her. She’s not nearly as far gone as Lexa is, which isn’t all that surprising because Clarke knows a thing or two about holding her liquor. “I haven’t been drunk in so long, Clarke. Do you know how long it’s been?” She asks and Clarke shakes her head. “Two years. Last time….last time I got drunk, was-was after she left.” Lexa say and Clarke knows there has to be a story behind that but she doesn’t want to ask. “This is much more fun. You’re much more fun, Clarke.” She says and Clarke smiles. Lexa turns her back toward Clarke and faces the water. Her arms are out at her sides and she inhales. She turns back to Clarke after a few moments and reaches down with a hand. “Come on, Clarke. It’s so much nicer up here.” She says. Clarke grabs onto it and Lexa attempts to pull her up. They don’t get far and Lexa ends up toppled back onto the sand. They both collapse into a fit of giggles and Clarke smiles down at Lexa.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” Clarke murmurs, looking over at Lexa, who is still giggling and staring up at the dark, starry sky. She looks over at Clarke and Clarke feels butterflies again. Lexa smiles and Clarke really thinks it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

“Me too, Clarke.” Lexa replies. “I feel good with you.” She mutters, “You make me feel good.” She corrects and Clarke looks down at her with a smile. There’s a lot that she wants to say but none of it is appropriate so instead Clarke stands up. She walks to the edge of the shore. The water hits the tips of her toes. The water feels good against them and soon, Lexa is standing next to her. Their arms are dangling right next to each other, their hands occasionally bumping. Without thinking, Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand and intertwines their fingers. Clarke has a small smile on her face and she glances at Lexa out of the corner of her eye. She’s smiling but still looking out at the water.

“You’re really pretty with your hair down, Lexa.” Clarke murmurs and she looks at Lexa and watches her bow her head. Her hair covers her face and Clarke turns her body and tugs at their intertwined hands so they’re standing face to face. Clarke uses her free hand to tuck a few strands of hair behind Lexa’s ears. Lexa is still looking down and Clarke wants her to look at her. So she drags her fingers down the side of Lexa’s face until they rest underneath Lexa’s chin. She gently pushes it upwards so that Lexa is looking her in the eyes. Clarke takes a step toward her.

And yeah, she’s a little bit tipsy but only enough to gather the courage to do this. Because it doesn’t matter if Lexa isn’t ‘girlfriend’ material. Not right now. When they’re on the road, they don’t have to fit the molds they’ve so carefully constructed for themselves. Clarke doesn’t have to fit the mold she’s forced herself into for so long. And Lexa makes her feel good. She doesn’t see why she shouldn’t just go for it. She’s on the road to have fun - not to stick to what she knows. And there’s just something about the way Lexa’s been looking at her that tells her she’s not the only one who feels it - feels the pull between them.

Clarke drags her hand back up the side of Lexa’s face and buries her hand in Lexa’s hair. Lexa’s eyes are half closed. “What are you doing, Clarke?” She asks, breathlessly. Clarke leans in, She rests her forehead against Lexa’s for a moment. She smiles. Lexa’s words from earlier in the diner run through her mind.

“Something new.” She whispers. Then she leans in.

And she kisses her.


	3. i'm tryin so hard not to get caught up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the question mark is still there re: amount of chapters but i have figured out that the MAX will be 15. also be aware we live up to our E rating in this chapter! because some people really.....love themselves.

The first thing she notices when her eyes finally open is that the light streaming in through the wide open window is nearly blinding and holy _fuck_ , it hurts.

The second is that she’s fairly certain she’s about to vomit.

The nauseous feeling her stomach isn’t altogether too unfamiliar but it’s still unpleasant and she sits up straight in bed, her back tense, as she tries to regulate her breathing and get her stomach to stop turning. Her mouth is dry, as if she’d spent the night chewing on cotton. She’s not sure what she wants to do more: chug a cup of water or hug the toilet bowl

Her stomach decides for her as it clenches and she runs into the bathroom, falling to her knees and collapsing onto the floor, vomiting what’s left of her mostly acidic stomach contents into the bowl.

She never lets herself drink as much as she drank last night. It takes her out of control. It makes her do things she wouldn’t otherwise do.

Like kiss Clarke Griffin.

(Multiple times).

The memories of last night come flooding back to her and nearly send her retching into the toilet again. Clarke grabbing her hand. Clarke kissing her. Lexa kissing her back. Clarke pushing her back so she’s laying horizontal on the sand and kissing her until she’s out of breath.

Fucking. Hell.

Lexa props her elbow on the bowl of the toilet and rests her head on her hand. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_.

That was never supposed to happen.

She wonders what the merits of finding a cheap flight to D.C. right now would be. She wouldn’t have to deal with Clarke surely telling her that what happened last night was a drunken mistake (and it was - surely it was) and the ensuing embarrassment. She could live without the things she’s packed and left in Clarke’s car. It’s a viable option.

And then Lexa hears the door of the motel room open. She wishes she’d had the time to shut the door. Clarke, initially, walks past the open bathroom door but she backtracks when she sees Lexa still hovering over the toilet seat. She’s smiling and Lexa is fairly certain that there’s no _possible_ way for Clarke to be this fucking chipper when she’d drank just as much as Lexa had. Lexa’s glowering at Clarke, who holds two coffees in her hand. “And how are you feeling this morning?” She asks and Lexa’s nostrils flare.

“Excellent. Best I’ve ever felt.” Lexa mutters.

“Take a cold shower and drink this. You’ll feel better.” Clarke says, leaving the coffee on the edge of the vanity. Lexa doesn’t bother to thank her, though Clarke hovers in the doorway with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, as if she wants to say something. Eventually, she just gives Lexa a nod and walks out of the doorway.

Lexa reaches across the tiny bathroom with her leg and kicks the door closed.

She’s so fucking screwed.

-

Clarke wakes much earlier than Lexa.

She sits up in bed, her stomach barely tuning, and she lets last night flow over her.

She’d kissed Lexa. And she hadn’t even been that drunk when she did it.

She’d wanted to do it. For more than just that moment, if she were being really honest with herself.

She showers and dresses as quietly as she can. She takes her phone into the hallway and slides her back down the wall, sitting as she dials the second number on her speed dial. It rings. And rings. And rings. Until finally, it goes to voicemail. “ _This is Finn. Leave a message. Especially you, Clarke._ ” Says the recorded voice on the other end. She listens to the automated voice go through her options and just before the beep sounds, she hangs up. She calls again.

It isn’t as comforting as it usually is to hear his voice. She swallows the lump in her throat. She hits speed dial number three this time. It ring three times before Raven’s sleepy voice travels through the receiver. “You better be fucking dying.” She says, her voice still scratchy with sleep. Clarke tries to laugh, really, but she’s kind of crying and it comes out more like a sob than anything. “Shit, you aren’t really dying are you? Cause I totally take that back.” Raven follows up quickly, sounding more alert.

“No.” Clarke says, sniffling. “I’m not dying.” And she wipes her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Did you kill her? Do you need help disposing of the body because I know some shit, Griffin. I watched some how-to videos on youtube just in case.” Raven says and this time, Clarke does laugh. It’s short and choppy and halfhearted but it’s certainly something.

“I kissed her.” She says and the words hang in silence for a moment.

“Whoa, whoa, re-fucking-wind. You kissed her? As in your mouth touched Medusa’s and you managed not to get yourself turned into stone?” Raven says and Clarke feels the urge to defend Lexa, again, but she pushes it down. This isn’t the time.

“That’s what I’m telling you.” Clarke confirms and Raven exhales, loudly.

“What kind of kiss are we talking about? Closed mouth, innocent, she-could-be-your-cousin kiss or tongue in mouth, meet me behind the bleachers kiss?” Raven asks and Clarke closes her eyes.

“Which time?” She says and then there’s silence on the other end for a few more moments.

“Holy fuck, Clarke.” Raven says simply.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking. I was drunk and she was there and she got me past level 17 on aa…” Clarke trails off and Raven makes a noise that Clarke knows to mean that she’s impressed.

“I know how much beating hard levels on phone games gets you going.” Raven jokes, “It’s a good thing she didn’t take on Unblock Me or else you would have fucked her right there.” Raven continues and Clarke drops her face to her knees, laughing into them. She’s glad she called Raven. She always manages to make her feel better. “So what’re you going to do about it?” Raven asks after Clarke’s laughter has dissipated.

“I...have no idea. It was stupid of me to do, I know that, but…” Clarke trails off.

“But?” Raven urges.

“It felt really damn good.” Clarke admits. “And I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” She continues because even though she was drunk, kissing Lexa made her feel the most she’s felt in almost a year and maybe she wants to hold onto that.

“You’re on fucking vacation, Griff. You don’t have to follow any kind of rules on the road. If you want to kiss your travel partner, who may or may not be a demon sent from Hell, you fucking do it. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” Raven says and it seems so much simple when it’s put that way.

She’s not wrong. There’s a reason they’re both doing this - things they’re both running from. This trip is a chance to forget about those things and let go. Maybe Clarke’s rules don’t have to apply here. “You’re right.” Clarke says.

“Always am.” Raven quips and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Tone it down before your head gets so heavy you can’t pick it up off your pillow.”

They chat for a few more minutes and just before they get ready to say goodbye, Raven says, “Don’t think too much about this, Griff. Do something for you, just this once.”

They exchange goodbyes and Clarke hangs up. She leans her head back against the wall, hitting it with a dull thud.

She doesn’t like to be selfish. It’s never been how she functions. She never does something that only benefits herself. She’s never quite seen the point in it.

But she thinks that maybe this will be the best chance she has to do something just because it fucking feels good. There’s nobody else she has to care for or be concerned about. She can do this, for herself, just because she wants to.

And that feels...freeing.

She slides up off of the wall and wanders downstairs to the spot where she’d seen the Keurig and brews two cups of coffee. She’s not sure how Lexa takes it so she picks up a few packages of cream and sugar….and then a few more just in case she doesn’t have enough.

She barely notices the open bathroom door initially but then she does and she backtracks, seeing Lexa hugging the toilet seat. She tries not to laugh.

She thinks about bringing it up right then but she decides that maybe the bathroom of the motel while Lexa is in the middle of puking her guts out isn’t exactly the right moment. She leaves the coffee on the edge of the vanity and she moves to sit on the edge of her bed.

Clarke isn’t sure how she’s even supposed to bring this up. Does she just….kiss her again and say, “Does this ring any bells?” Does she wait for Lexa to bring it up? She can’t remember the last time she’d thought so much about a drunken kiss.

She’s playing a few rounds of Unblock Me on her phone, Raven’s offhand comment inspiring her, when Lexa comes out of the bathroom with her clothes from the night before still on but her hair dripping wet. She’s got her hands on her elbows and her shoulders curled in. She doesn’t look at Clarke as she turns to ruffle through her bag and pulls out a whole new outfit, matching lacy bra and underwear (that honestly look more like lingerie than regular undergarments) and all.

She _still_ doesn’t make any eye contact as she moves back into the bathroom.

She wonders why Lexa put her clothes back on before she left the bathroom. Her mind flashes back to all of the times she’s seen Lexa cross her arms over her chest, or stomach, and her curiosity is piqued.

Just another thing about Lexa she can’t quite put her finger on.

It takes a few minutes for Lexa to emerge from the bathroom again. She has her coffee cup in her hand and she’s taking careful sips. Her hair is back in that familiar braid and Clarke has to resist the urge to reach across the open space, pull the hair tie out, and let her hair loose.

She still won’t look at her.

Clarke clears her throat. “Feel any better?” She asks and Lexa puts her coffee on the end table and she starts to straighten the edges of the blankets on the bed.

“Not really.” She murmurs, rubbing her hands over the comforter, clearly trying to rid the piece of wrinkles.

“If you want, we can get some advil on the way out of here. That’ll make the headache go away.” Clarke continues and this whole conversation feels an awful lot like pulling teeth. It’s like they’re back to where they started. Like the past two days never even happened.

“Alright.” Lexa replies shortly and she’s standing at the edge of the bed, her arms circled around her body again, her fingers pinching at the skin of her elbow. “When is checkout?” She asks and Clarke isn’t sure how she manages to sound so distant when she’s barely two feet away from her.

“11.” Clarke says quickly and she moves to stand, “Look about last night-” Clarke starts and finally, Lexa swings around to look at her. Her jaw is clenched and Clarke can see the tension in her face.

“I don’t remember last night.” She says sharply.

-

She’s not sure why she says it.

Clarke is looking at her and she feels the heat of her stare more intensely than ever and she wants it to stop. She doesn’t want to burn underneath it - not yet. She’s not ready to go up in flames because of Clarke Griffin.

She’s about to bring up, she can feel it, so she straightens her back, clenches her jaw, and she lies.

And she convinces herself it’ll be better that way - that they can pretend this never happened and move on. Because it didn’t really mean anything.

Not to Clarke and especially not to her.

Clarke goes quiet after that and she doesn’t say much until they’re checked out and heading into the car. Clarke is driving and Lexa has the map of Nevada open on her lap again. The sky above them is cloudy and Lexa wonders if it’s going to rain. She knows that on average, Nevada gets under an inch of rain per month, so she highly doubts that anything will come of the heavy clouds above them. She has her legs crossed and she smooths the map out over her thigh, tracing the part of the highway that they’re travelling on with the tip of her finger. She moves the map but keeps her finger still.

Clarke’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the sill of the window and Lexa’s come to realize that’s how Clarke’s most comfortable driving. She wishes it didn’t make her heart race so much. She really ought to keep both hands on the wheel.

Lexa clears her throat, “There’s a cave, about two hours north of us, that I’d really like to visit, if you don’t mind.” Lexa murmurs and Clarke shrugs. She tosses some of her hair over her shoulder and she doesn’t take her eyes off of the road.

“Sure. Just tell me when to get off.” She mutters and barely has any emotion when she says it.

Lexa wonders if it’s possible she’d underestimated just how much last night could have meant to Clarke.

She really doesn’t think so.

They aren’t….compatible. Lexa isn’t the kind of person someone like Clarke looks at and consciously decides to kiss. It just isn’t how life works

(Though, she’d thought the same of Costia and she’d been proven very, very wrong.)

(She doesn’t think this is the case this time.)

(Clarke isn’t Costia. She knows that.)

Lexa stares out the window. Nevada’s nice. A little dry but still pretty enough to look at. She reaches down and rummages through her bag. She pulls out her camera and takes a few shots as they drive quickly down the thruway. She likes the way they turn out while the car is moving fast. The blur adds something special to them. A kind of character you can’t manufacture.

It makes them feel more real. She lowers the camera down into her lap and looks back to Clarke, who is looking at her out of the corner of her eye. “Do you want me to stop?” Clarke asks and Lexa shakes her head.

“No. I wanted some shots of the road.” Lexa replies, keeping her voice just barely above a whisper.

She wonders how long they can keep this up.

She’s told more convincing lies in the past.

She knows Clarke remembers last night.

She knows Clarke knows _she_ remembers last night.

It weighs heavy between them and she’s not sure how long they’ll last before one of them explodes and it comes spilling out. She hopes they can keep it tucked away until after Lovelock. She’s always wanted to see the caves. She fears that if they bring it up before, she’ll have to find another way home.

Lexa sighs and she taps her foot against the floor of the car. The silence is starting to feel more irksome than nails on a chalkboard.

Instead of speaking, she reaches and turns up the volume dial on the radio.

She focuses on the sound of Vance Joy instead of the much louder silence.

-

Clarke doesn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t for Lexa to flat out lie to her.

It hurts her, more than she’d anticipated, that Lexa could look her in the eyes and tell her that she doesn’t remember. She almost wishes she’d given her some kind of hickey so she could point at it and go, ‘you can’t tell me you don’t remember that’. But she’d steered clear of the neck so there’s no _proof_.

And really, Clarke has no proof that Lexa is lying. She’s a lightweight, that much was clear to Clarke almost immediately, so it’s entirely plausible she’d blacked out.

But there was something in the tone of her voice and the straightening of her back that tells her, no, she didn’t. She remembers. She’s just pretending not to.

It’s hard to react to because the words, ‘we kissed and I know you fucking liked it’ are on the tip of her tongue every time she opens her mouth. So she chooses to keep her mouth closed instead. If Lexa wants to forget, fine. Two can play at that game. She won’t bring it up if Lexa won’t. They can ride the giant elephant in the room and pretend it doesn’t affect them.

There’s no way Clarke’s going to break first.

She keeps her hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel and she keeps her eyes on the road. She plays games with herself, iSpy or the alphabet game to keep herself from looking at Lexa. Even when she speaks, she keeps her eyes away from her because there’s always something about the broken look Lexa always has in her eyes, even when she’s smiling, that makes Clarke feel weak.

And she’s not going to break. She’s much stronger than that. Like iron, or steel, or maybe she’s cut from the same slab of marble that Lexa is.

At least whoever made her gave her a smile and access to the full spectrum of human emotion.

It’s nearing one and her stomach is grumbling. She wonders how far away this cave is because she’s starving and she’s feeling a bit too proud to ask Lexa to reach into the back seat and pull out a package of Goldfish. “How much further?” She asks, still very determinedly, not looking at Lexa.

“Not much. 10 more minutes.” She replies.

They go silent again.

It’s awkward and everything in Clarke aches to break it, say anything to try and bring them back to how they were...yesterday afternoon. But the only thing she wants to say is ‘quit the bullshit’ and she feels like that probably won’t go over very well.

A few minutes later, Lexa clears her throat and points to an upcoming exit. “That one.” She says and Clarke switches lanes just as the navigation system says what Lexa had already told her.

They exit the freeway and pull onto a street that seems mostly unkempt and if Clarke didn’t know this was the right way (mostly because of the directions on her phone), she’d suspect Lexa was leading her off the beaten path to….well. You know.

Clarke pulls into a parking lot that’s nearly empty. Lexa’s opening the door and stepping out of the car before Clarke even has a chance to completely park the car, let alone say anything. Clarke leans back fully in her seat. She takes a few calming breaths. Her fingers travel up to her necklace and she grips it tightly. Maybe it’ll give her some kind of strength that’ll help her get through this without exploding at Lexa or pinning her against a cave wall and reminding her of exactly what she’s pretending to forget.

Lexa’s already halfway up the path that leads to the cave when Clarke opens the drivers side door. She decides that it’s not worth it to try and catch up so she walks at her own pace.

The air feels heavy and sticky and the clouds are just getting darker and darker. She hopes the rain holds out until they can find themselves a place to stay. Though Clarke figures that at the rate the iciness is melting between the two of them, they might have to stay at two separate motels so they don’t fucking freeze to death trying to thaw it out between them.

There’s a name plate outside of the cave and Clarke stops in front of it to read. Lexa’s already inside and really, Clarke doesn’t want to suffer through any more awkward silences so she stays outside as long as she can.

She starts to feel some raindrops on her shoulder so she decides now is as a good a time as any to go inside.

It looks...much of the same on the inside as the outside. Lexa is dragging her fingers across the wall of the cave with as close to an excited expression on her face as Clarke has seen this whole trip. So she has to ask. “What’s so special about this place?” Lexa jumps and she looks over her shoulder for a second. Then she turns back to the wall.

“It’s one of the most important archeological landmarks in North America. It was occupied by various Native Americans over the course of history, making it one of the most rich paleontological places in the nation.” Lexa explains with a strange amount of passion that Clarke hasn’t ever heard from Lexa.

“Fascinating.” Clarke mutters dryly and Lexa whips her head around, her eyes narrowed.

“It is.” She shoots back harshly and Clarke puts her hands up in a show of innocence.

“I’m sure.” She says and takes a step back, turning away from Lexa completely. She has an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach and it almost feels like she wants to vomit. It’s not a hangover (because she doesn’t really get those) so she’s not sure if it’s _just_ because of Lexa.

She figures it probably is.

Clarke figures it was probably foolish of her to think she could do anything for herself that’s uncomplicated. Nothing with Lexa has been uncomplicated since they got in the car two days ago and she figures there’s nothing that’s going to change that.

“There’s legend that says there may have been a species of giant that died here. They were cannibalistic in nature and at war with a tribe of Native Americans. They were trapped in here and allegedly smoked to death.” Lexa says from the opposite side of the cave and Clarke crosses her arms over her chest and snorts.

“Explains the smoky smell.” Clarke mutters and Lexa makes a sound that almost sounds like a laugh. “So if it’s so ‘paleontologically’ rich, why’s it empty?” Clarke asks, wanting to keep this going. Clarke is looking at Lexa from over her shoulder and she watches as she stands up, wiping her hands on her thighs.

“Everything worth seeing was mined out, most of it without much regard for the historical importance. I believe something like 250 tons of material were taken to a fertilizer company. That was all destroyed. A few things made it out of later excavations though I believe they’re all in the Smithsonian.” She explains, craning her neck to look at the ceiling of the cave. Clarke turns to her.

“Maybe we can see them when we get back to the east coast.” Clarke says and Lexa gets a half-smile on her face.

“Sure.” She replies. They go quiet again and Clarke hears the noise of rain outside of the cave. She looks toward the entrance. It’s pouring.

 _Of_ course.

-

She’s not sure at what point on the drive she’d taken a vow of silence but she keeps it up until she no longer can.

She’s never been able to keep to herself when it comes to things that she _knows_. And she knows about this. It isn’t so much that she wants to rub her knowledge in Clarke’s face, because she doesn’t, it’s more that she wants to share it. Share why places like this are incredible to see and visit.

That’s what makes this trip worth it for her.

So she can’t keep quiet anymore once they’re in the cave. She wants Clarke to know _why_ she wanted to stop here so maybe she could appreciate it too.

And maybe it’s still a little awkward but pretending is easier than she’d anticipated as long as she doesn’t actually speak to Clarke and she figures it’ll just keep getting easier as the day goes on.

And maybe soon she actually will forget.

The rain is hitting the rocks outside and Lexa sighs. The car is a decent distance away and she’s not entirely sure she wants to make the trek back to it.

She’s also not sure she wants to sit inside the cave and wait it out alone with Clarke either.

Clarke’s still standing on the opposite side of the cave as she is. She’s facing the wall and dragging her fingers over the rough edges of the rocky wall. Lexa can see her profile and she sees that she’s smiling and she _tries_ to stop her stomach from turning and the butterflies from erupting but it doesn’t quite work.

She wonders what would have happened if she hadn’t lied. If she’d actually let Clarke finish her sentence. She wonders what she would have said. Lexa bites down on her bottom lip. She clears her throat. “What were you going to say?” Lexa says, breaking the silence, her words echoing off the walls of the cave. Clarke whips her head around and she doesn’t look confused at all when she replies,

“When?” Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“This morning. When you brought up last night. What were you going to say?” Lexa reiterates and Clarke narrows her eyes.

“I thought you didn’t remember.” Clarke challenges and Lexa brings her arms closer to herself, shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t. I’m curious as to what I might have done last night.” She murmurs and she can’t look Clarke in the eyes because if she does, she knows they’re going to give her away. That’s always been one of her biggest flaws, at least according to her Mother. She keeps her heart in her eyes. Showcases her weakness. She’s never quite been able to figure out how to make that stop.

Clarke raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards Lexa. “Do you want me to tell you what we did last night?” She asks and it _still_ sounds like she’s challenging her and something twists in her stomach. She’s never been one to back down from a challenge. So she shrugs her shoulders.

“Yes. Enlighten me, Clarke.” She murmurs. Lexa watches as Clarke’s tongue darts out to lick her lips. Lexa gulps. She takes another step closer to Lexa.

“We went back to that beach. It was empty this time.” She begins and Lexa nods. Clarke tilts her head and she looks as if she’s trying to read her or maybe look through her. Maybe both. “We had vodka. You really can’t hold your liquor, you know that?” Clarke says and Lexa brings her bottom lip between her teeth. Clarke is only a few steps away from her now and Lexa feels her heartbeat accelerate.

“I’ve been told.” Lexa murmurs and Clarke smirks. She reaches out and lightly, so lightly that Lexa’s only half-sure she didn’t imagine it, drags her fingers down Lexa’s forearm.

“You tried to dance. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or not but you ended up in the sand more than you moved.” Clarke bites her lip. She moves closer still. There’s not much space between them now. “We stood in the water.” And she reaches out again and this time, she grabs her fingers gently. She could pull away if she wants to. Clarke isn’t holding her hand with any sort of pressure - she could walk away and she could end this. Hell, she probably should. She really, really should.

But she doesn’t.

“And then…” Clarke whispers and she’s less than an inch away from Lexa and she’s looking down at her lips and Lexa thinks she’s going to kiss her again.

Lexa’s eyes shift from Clarke’s face to over her shoulder. “The rain’s stopped.” She mutters and she takes a step away from Clarke. She wills her heart rate to calm down.

Lexa watches as Clarke rips her eyes away from her and shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake herself from a trance. Lexa takes a deep breath. “Let’s find a motel.” She murmurs and she walks out of the cave.

Her heart hasn’t stopped racing.

-

They get caught in the rain.

It stops for a few minutes, long enough for them to get halfway down the hill, but it starts again and soaks them completely. Lexa’s white shirt is nearly see through and Clarke tries _incredibly_ hard not to stare at the bright orange bra that’s very clearly visible underneath Lexa’s shirt. She’s got her arms crossed and her shoulders are hunched. Her hair is nearly plastered to her head, it’s so wet.

They ran back to the car and Clarke’s almost thankful for the rain. It gave her a chance to cool off.

She’d nearly kissed her again. Clearly, keeping her hands to herself isn’t an option. She’s not entirely sure why she’s lost any semblance of self-control when it comes to Lexa. Maybe she really is convinced that Lexa is her gateway to some kind of freedom on this trip and she’s desperate to keep hold on that.

Lexa is shivering. “Do you need a blanket or something?” Clarke asks and Lexa looks up, her teeth still chattering. She shakes her head.

“N-no. I’m fine, Clarke.” She says and really, it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s speaking through chattering teeth and stuttering over her words. Clarke nods. It’s in the mid-80’s. She’s far from cold. She wonders why the water is affecting Lexa so much. It isn’t her place to ask so she doesn’t. They’re quiet for a few more moments and then Lexa speaks up again. She’s stopped shivering and her jaw seems to be still. “Do you know why this place is called Lovelock?” Lexa asks and Clarke shakes her head.

“No but I assume you’re going to tell me.” Clarke murmurs and she tries to keep her tone lighthearted but she’s not entirely sure that she succeeds.

“If you don’t want to know Clarke, all you have to do is say.” Lexa says and she’s not good at keeping her emotions out of her tone either because Clarke can hear that what she said hurt her. She sighs.

“No, no. Go ahead.” She says, craning her neck and trying to figure out where the fuck the main road is.

“It’s because of Lovelock plaza. It’s a place where people can, for lack of better terminology, lock in their love, romantic or otherwise. You purchase a lock from somewhere in town and put your name on it. Then you lock it into place in the plaza and you throw away the key. It’s meant to symbolize a promise to love the other person for as long as the lock stays in place.” Lexa finishes and she sounds like she’s talking about something in a fairytale, not of something they’re only mere miles from seeing. Clarke glances at her out of the corner of her eye,

“What, do you not buy into the forever gimmick?” Clarke asks and she watches Lexa wrinkle her nose and shake her head.

“I think the idea of it is an awful lot of pressure to put on two people. I think that saying forever implies that they aren’t going to change or grow apart.” Lexa murmurs.

“What if they grow together?” Clarke rebutts and Lexa shrugs.

“What are the chances of two leaves on a tree growing to look exactly alike, Clarke?” Lexa shoots back just as quickly and Clarke quiet. And she thought she was pessimistic.

“It’s always worth a shot.” Clarke murmurs, turning her eyes back toward the road.

Lexa is staring at her and it’s kind of unnerving. “Maybe.” She murmurs and it doesn’t sound genuine at all. It just sounds as if she’s trying to appease her. Clarke would push but mostly, she’s not in the mood so she lets it go.  “Do you think it works the opposite way?” Lexa asks after a few moments of silence. Clarke furrows her brow.

“What do you mean?” She asks and Lexa pauses for a moment.

“That instead of locking a love in, saying that it’s meant to last forever, can you lock in something and say that you’re leaving it there? Give something a proper ending. Leave the love you felt so it’s no longer with you to weigh you down?” She continues and Clarke bites down on her lip.

It’s a nice idea.

It’s something she’s wished for for nearly a year. Something to take the weight off of her chest. She hasn’t _stopped_ feeling it and every single day she wakes up and she wishes for it to dissipate. To lighten just a little. But it’s been the same since last July and she doesn’t suspect it’s ever going to go away.

She’s accepted the fact that she’ll always feel like there’s a vice grip around her heart. That someone is squeezing and releasing for maybe an hour tops, only to tighten their fingers again and remind her that she’s not allowed to feel as if she’s not weighed down.

She’s not allowed to feel anything close to freedom.

(And maybe her chest would feel a little less heavy if she took off the necklace that he gave her but she can’t bring herself to do it because it feels like a betrayal to even think about it. And maybe she deserves to feel like her chest is being crushed by a thousand pound slab of metal.)

So she thinks that would be nice. If she could write down the name of the person who gave her this unbearable ache, lock it to a fence, and be rid of it forever? Well she’d take that opportunity in a second.

So she thinks she’d give it a shot. Anything’s worth a shot. So she nods. “Maybe.” She says, in reply to Lexa after a few moments of silence. She wonders what weight Lexa would lock into the fence.

She wonders if she’ll ever break down enough of her walls to find out.

-

They find a motel and they wait for the rain to stop.

Lexa showers as soon as they’re checked into a room. She takes a few set of clean clothing into the bathroom with her and registers to her that she’s going to run out of clean clothes, and underwear, sooner rather than later.

She lets the warm water of her second shower of the day wash over her and she turns the water up nearly as high as it can go. She hopes that the high water temperature might melt the feelings off of her.

She wants to kiss Clarke again. She wants to keep kissing Clarke until Clarke is out of breath but still begging for her to keep going.

Well, Lexa thinks that maybe she would be the one begging.

She wants Clarke on top of her. She wants Clarke’s fingers dancing across her skin, each slow touch lighting her on fire. She wants Clarke’s hands beneath the elastic of her underwear, pulling it away from her skin. She wants Clarke gripping at her hipbones so hard she leaves bruises in the shapes of her fingertips.

She fucking wants it _all_.

Clarke’s gone to get them something to eat and she figures there’s no harm in letting her imagination running a little wild. She turns her back and leans against the wall of the shower. The water from the head hits the tops of her thighs and her hand travels down her wet stomach, gripping at her hips to give herself the sensation she so desires. She bites down on her bottom lip, images of Clarke on her knees in front of her flooding her mind.

She imagines Clarke’s hand where hers rests, gripping her hip, her lips kissing a line across her pubic bone, from hip bone to hip bone.

She imagines Clarke looking up at her through her eyelashes, her mouth moving south, hovering but not quite touching the place where Lexa fucking needs her.

Lexa’s hand drops from her hip and she drags her fingers through the warmth, until she reaches her clit. She presses on it and pretends that instead of fingers, she has Clarke’s tongue pressed against her. She works her fingers against her clit and bites down hard on her lip. Her hips grind against her hand and she thinks about grinding them against Clarke’s face instead, her nose brushing against Lexa’s clit while her tongue works elsewhere. She releases her lip from between her teeth, her mouth falling open and her breathing starts to get heavier.

She keeps the pressure on her clit, feeling building her stomach. Lexa leans her head back against the shower wall. The tops of her thighs start tense and she feels her orgasm building. She imagines Clarke’s tongue coming back to her clit and working faster and faster as Lexa fucking _begs_ her to let her come. She imagines Clarke pulling back, putting her fingers where her mouth was and saying, “Come, Lexa, come for me.”

Lexa’s fingers keep going as she sends herself over the edge, her orgasm shaking her whole body, a whimper of “ _Clarke_ ,” falling from her mouth. Her fingers _still_ move even though her thighs are shaking and her clit’s gone sensitive. Finally, she pulls her fingers from herself and lets out a shaky breath. Lexa relaxes against the shower wall.

Her breathing is heavy but she can’t remember the last time she’d given herself an orgasm that goddamn good. Apparently the image of Clarke between her legs makes her wetter and more sensitive than imaging Kristen Stewart.

She brings her fingers up to her mouth and she licks as much of herself off of them as she can.

And then she finishes showering.

She decides to leave her hair down, using the motel provided hair dryer so it doesn’t soak the shoulders of her pajamas.

(And maybe she should be embarrassed that it’s barely even five in the afternoon and she’s already in her pajamas but really, she has no intention of leaving this motel room for the rest of the night. She hopes Clarke doesn’t either.)

Clarke is sitting on her bed, flipping through the TV channels, a bag of food to her left when Lexa finally comes out of the bathroom. Clarke gives her a smile and this almost feels like a do-over. It mirrors their positions from this morning but this time, Lexa isn’t going to shut her down. Not this time.

(Though her cheeks do tinge pink when she makes eye contact and she _tries_ not to imagine what she was just doing in the shower.)

“What did you get?” Lexa asks, gesturing with her head to the plastic bag.

“Oh, that’s not the food. That’s movies, beer, and shitload of candy.” She says and Lexa quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what are we eating for dinner then, Clarke?” She asks and Clarke smirks.

“I was going to get us McDonald’s but the only one I could find looked kind of dingy and abandoned so no go on that one. I ordered a pizza It should be here-” There’s a knock at the door. Clarke looks down at the clock on her phone. “Right about now. Hold tight.” Clarke says and she springs off the bed, bounding toward the door, her wallet in hand.

Lexa thinks she might have whiplash with the way things are moving so back and forth with Clarke. It’s like everything’s back to how it was before they kissed. Before they almost kissed _again_.

And Lexa’s willing to roll with it. She sits on the edge of the bed, her bright red pajama shorts riding up and exposing much more of her thigh than she’s comfortable with so she pulls it down. Clarke’s coming back to the bed with the pizza in her hand. “I didn’t know what kind of toppings you wanted, so I just got half cheese, half pepperoni and green pepper, which is what I eat.” She explains and Lexa shrugs.

“I don’t eat pizza that often so just cheese is fine.” And that’s kind of an understatement because she had never been _allowed_ to have pizza as a child and she kind of carried that with her into her adult life. She’s had it once or twice, though she’s never been able to finish a whole slice without feeling as if the grease of it would make her sick. Clarke opens the pizza box and puts it between them. The TV is playing an episode of Pawn Stars, which certainly captures Lexa’s attention. Clarke pulls a slice from her half of the pizza and starts to eat. Lexa looks down at it, biting on her lip. “I’ll be back.” She mutters and she goes into the bathroom and pulls a hand towel from the rack. She returns to the bed and sits, pulling a slice of pizza out of the box. She dabs at it gently with the hand towel, getting rid of as much of the grease on top of the pizza as she can.

She notices Clarke giving her a strange look but she pretends not to notice. Lexa’s legs are crossed underneath her and she keeps the pizza in one of her hands, resting the other behind her, reclining against it. She gestures toward the TV. “It baffles me just how arrogant people can be when they’re trying to sell trash.” She mutters.

“It baffles me how much these guys are willing to _spend_ on trash.” Clarke shoots back and Lexa shrugs.

“Not all of it is trash. Most of it has historical value. But that doesn’t always equate into monetary value. Especially not the kind these people walk in expecting.” Lexa murmurs, taking a small bite out of the pizza. She tries to taste as much of it as she can, separating the cheese from the sauce and the sauce from the bread, chewing as many times as she can.

 _Small bites, Lexa. Keep chewing. Don’t you dare open your mouth. Chew like a lady or don’t chew at all_. She hears in the back of her head and then her teeth stop moving. She takes a deep breath. No. She won’t listen to her. Not anymore. She tries to push the voice out of her head by turning her attention back to Clarke. She gestures toward the bag. “What movies did you get?” She asks and Clarke, with the pizza half hanging out of her mouth and a string of mozzarella hanging from her chin she says.

“Oh, uh. I got them from the bargain bin at Wal-Mart so there’s My Big Fat Greek Wedding, The Shining, and The Time-Travelers Wife.” Lexa smiles.

“I haven’t seen any of those.” She says in a voice just above a whisper. Clarke smiles and shakes her head.

“You’re a fucking special kind of weird, you know that?” She says and her tone carries something akin to affection and it makes Lexa blush.

“You’ve mentioned.” She mutters and she turns her attention back to the TV, trying to force the blush out of her cheeks.

-

Clarke’s three beers and nearly half a pizza into the night and she’s reclined against the pillows. Lexa is sitting straight up, her eyes wide and attentive.

Clarke’s glad she decided to do this. After the incident in the cave, she decided she had to dial this back. She had to remind herself that Lexa was, _at most_ , a friend. Someone she could stuff her face with and not feel like she wants to push against a wall.

(And she can pretend that it’s working - she can, really.)

She’s pretending this whole afternoon didn’t happen. Lexa seems to be playing along and it’s like everything is normal. Or as normal as you can get with someone you’d only really met two days ago but are travelling across the continental United States with.

Lexa’s got a box of Mike & Ike’s in her head and she’s not eating them, though she’s rooting through the box every so often. Her eyes are intensely trained on the screen and Clarke swears she’s shaking just slightly. The only thing in the screen is “REDRUM”, in blood and Lexa squeaks and jumps just slightly. Her body is tense and Clarke almost wants to laugh. She jumps even more when Jack starts hacking at the door with an axe. She scoots backwards so her back is against the headboard of the bed.

Clarke is laying on her side, facing toward Lexa, and she looks up at her, smiling. She pops a Hershey kiss in her mouth and smirks. “Scared?” She says and Lexa looks down at her with wide eyes.

“Clarke, what on Earth gave you the idea that this would be a suitable film to watch while we’re in a motel?” Lexa says, the words rushing out of her and Clarke tosses her head back in laughter.

“This exact reaction. The look on your face right now is absolutely worth it.” Clarke says and now Lexa’s eyes are narrowing and she whacks Clarke on the shoulder with a limp hand.

“Please don’t tell me the others are like this,” Lexa asks, gesturing with her head toward the bag where the other movies are resting. Clarke shakes her head.

“No. Nowhere near as terrifying. Though the hairstyles in My Big Fat Greek Wedding are a little sketchy.” She says and Lexa laughs, just slightly, and Clarke ignores the flipping in her stomach at the sound.

Lexa pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her cheek on one of her knees, her curly hair falling over her knees and covering them like a curtain. “This is the worst movie I have ever seen.” She mutters, frowning and Clarke can’t stop smiling. She’s just so fucking cute.

She feels a pull toward her and she wants to lean in. She wants to kiss her.

So she shakes her head and sits up, reaching across to the end of the bed and pulls two beers from the container. “Want one?” She asks Lexa and she sees the hesitation on her face and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. After a few moments of what looks to be very careful consideration, she nods. Clarke smiles and tosses it to her. She furrows her brow down at the neck of the bottle.

“Do you have a bottle opener?” She asks and Clarke snorts.

“It’s a twist-off.” She replies and she watches color flood Lexa’s cheeks as she moves her hand to the top of the bottle and twists the cap off. She tags a swig and the picture of prim and proper Lexa, dressed in her crimson silk pajamas, drinking a Coors does something for her and there’s a twinge between her legs. She shakes her head and tries to shake it off, taking a swig of her own beer to keep her mind off of it.

-

Lexa’s got three beers in her system and there are tears falling down her cheeks as the husband’s body appears in the hallway of the home. She tries to wipe them away before Clarke notices them. It is, unfortunately, too late. Clarke chokes back a laugh and Lexa’s nostrils flare. “Don’t laugh, Clarke, this is incredibly emotional.” She mutters, “This woman has just lost her husband.” She says and as they return to the meadow a final time, she has to swallow a lump in her throat because she’s _not_ going to cry over a film.

She convinces herself it’s because she’s a little tipsy and it’s been a _long_ day.

(She knows that’s not true - she always cries during movies like this. The first time she’d watched The Notebook with Costia, she’d sobbed into her shoulder for an hour after it was finished.)

She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes, sniffing. Clarke is leaning against her and she’s giggling almost uncontrollably into her shoulder. “Oh, laugh it up, Clarke.” Lexa mutters sourly. Clarke leans her head back, snorting.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m done I swear.” She says, her laughter slowly dying off. “You never struck me as the type to cry at movies. Or cry at all.” She says and Lexa furrows her brow, looking down at her.

“I have emotions, Clarke.” Lexa replies, only a little hurt and maybe more than a little offended.

“When it comes to Rachel McAdams movies.” Clarke says with another snort. They go quiet for a few seconds and Clarke is looking up at her. “Still hesitant on the idea of forever?” She asks and Lexa chuckles.

“It’s going to take more than a romance film to sell me on forever, Clarke.” She murmurs and Clarke inhales, leaning her head back far enough that it rolls off her shoulder and hits the headboard.

“Yeah. It’s nice to think about though.” She responds, her eyes trained toward the ceiling and Lexa turns her head to look at her. “Someone who loves you no matter what. No matter how much you change.” She continues and Lexa bites down on her bottom lip.

“Love is never unconditional, Clarke. Every feeling has its limit. Its breaking point.” Lexa points out and Clarke sighs.

“I know.” She mutters and the credits start to roll on the TV. “Have you ever been in love, Lexa?” Clarke asks and Lexa’s eyes widen. She feels a twist in her gut, as she almost always does when she thinks of her. Slowly, she nods.

“Once.” She says shortly. There’s a few beats of silence.

“Yeah. Me too.” Clarke responds and there’s something about her tone, the way the resignation in it matches Lexa’s, that makes Lexa get it.

She’s lost someone too.

Clarke is yawning and she leans up off of the headboard. She stretches her arms over her head, her shirt riding up just enough to expose some of her skin and Lexa wishes she could just reach out and touch her.

(And she knows that she _could_ but she can’t find the bravery or the courage in herself to just do it - but oh how she wishes that she could.)

“I’m beat. It’s been a long day. We’ll head out to Lovelock tomorrow, okay?” Clarke says, standing up off of the bed. Lexa gives her a half-smile and a nod.

“Okay.” She responds, standing as well to clear the bed of some of the beer bottles and candy wrappers.

They both settle into their beds and the lights go off. Lexa has her back facing away from Clarke.

She wonders if she’d started this day differently, if perhaps it would be ending with Clarke pressed against her back, fingers hovering over her hips. She wonders if maybe her shower fantasy could have been more than just a figment of fleeting imagination.

And she starts to regret her choice to lie.

Maybe it’s just because she’s lonely and aching because that’s how she always feels when she thinks of Costia but she finds herself wishing that she’d spent the day kissing Clarke instead of ignoring her.

The kisses last night didn’t have to mean anything.

Or maybe they could mean everything.

And maybe it’s because she can’t see her face and because she’s rethinking everything about this whole day that she says, “I remember. Last night, I remember. All of it.”

The silence in the room seems like it lasts a millenium but then there’s rustling of sheets and an inhale.

“I know.” Is Clarke’s response. She doesn’t follow it up with anything and Lexa waits and waits and waits but soon, Clarke’s breathing evens out and she falls asleep.

No further response.

-

Lexa’s admission is the first thing on her mind when she wakes up.

Again, she’s up before Lexa and she wonders if the day is going to repeat like yesterday.

She doesn’t call Raven but her finger does hover over the number 2. She thinks about calling and leaving a voicemail, like she does when she’s having a particularly bad day, but she doesn’t.

Maybe it’s time to let go.

Maybe that starts with taking his number off of her speed dial and _not_ calling it at the first sign of trouble.

(She’s ready to try that second thing but not the first - not quite yet. She has to work up to it. Maybe once she really accepts that he’s never coming back.)

She gets coffees, same as the morning before, and she walks back into the room but this morning, finds Lexa sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing at her eyes. Clarke gives her a smile. “Here.” She says, offering her the cup of coffee. Lexa takes it with a gracious smile.

Clarke watches it as she sips and the silence is tense. Clarke wants to say something and Lexa’s eyes are nervous. She’s not looking at Clarke. She’s looking past her, her shoulders hunched and her fingers tapping on the side of the cup. Clarke sighs. “We have to talk about it, Lexa.” Clarke finally murmurs and Lexa’s lips tense but she nods. She puts her coffee on the floor, resting her hands on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t speak so Clarke continues, “You know, sometimes I think I have you exactly figured out. I think I know exactly what you’re going to do next. And then you surprise me.” She says and Lexa looks up at her, her eyes still tense. She figures that honesty is the best policy here because they do still have….days, maybe even weeks, ahead of them on the road together and they should make the most of them. They can’t do that if they’re not speaking to each other. “I wanted to kiss you. On the beach and in the cave. I don’t know what it is about you but you fucking rip every ounce of self-control from me.” Clarke keeps speaking and she should probably stop because she’s close to admitting something she could regret but Lexa is still watching her and she thinks that maybe she knows what she wants to do next. She knows one way they can both enjoy themselves, greatly, for the rest of this trip. She takes a step toward where Lexa is sitting on the bed.

“And what exactly does that mean, Clarke?” Lexa asks in a tone that Clarke could almost label as nervous if it wasn’t coming from cool, calm, collected Lexa. Clarke takes a deep breath and she looks at Lexa as meaningfully as she can. This could be the biggest fucking mistake she makes but it’s a worth a shot because it’d been true when she’d thought that kissing Lexa made her feel the most free she’d felt in nearly a year and she’d do….whatever it took to get that back. Now that Lexa’s dropped the amnesiac act, she can do this.

“It means I don’t want to control myself. I want to be able to kiss you whenever I want to kiss you. I want you to be able to kiss me whenever you want to kiss me. No strings.” Clarke suggests and Lexa bites down on her lip. Clarke feels like she should keep talking, give more incentive, more explanation. “It’s just you and me on this trip, Lexa. Nobody has to know what we do.”

She hadn’t walked into this thinking that this was what she wanted. A no strings attached, kind-of-almost-friends with benefits relationship was _not_ on her to-do list but apparently Lexa had made it there without Clarke even fucking noticing.

“Oh.” Lexa says simply and she looks down at her lap. Her eyes drift close and Clarke wonders what’s going on in that head of hers. She really wishes she had a fucking clue. “Okay.” Lexa says, finally looking up from her hands in her lap and honestly, Clarke is surprised. She’d half expected Lexa to stand up and smack her, yell at her for insulting her propriety. Lexa stands and she looks momentarily at Clarke’s lips and then down at her hand.

Then she sticks out her hand. Clarke glances down at it and then back up at Lexa with a quirked eyebrow. Lexa gestures down toward her extended hand with her head. Clarke shakes her head, with a smile, but she reaches her hand out anyway. She grabs onto Lexa’s hand and they shake twice firmly. Lexa moves to let go but Clarke decides a handshake isn’t quite enough to seal this deal. She tugs on her arm and pulls her in close. She nudges Lexa’s nose with her own and then dips her head so their lips meet. It’s a soft kiss but it’s enough to send tingles down Clarke’s spine and for the desire to melt into Lexa’s arms and stay pressed against her for as long as possible to spring up.

She pulls back and Lexa’s lips are hanging open, her eyes still closed. “I think this arrangement will work out quite well.” Lexa murmurs, her eyes still not opening.

Clarke just kisses her again.

(Because really, that’s all she can do.)

-

They’re standing in front of the gate that’s full of locks. They each have one in their hands. Lexa has a sharpie and it’s hovering just above the metal of the lock.

It’d been a choice they’d both made on a whim. To write the names of whatever or whoever is weighing them down and lock them in, leaving them here, as Lexa has suggested yesterday. It’s symbolic, sure, but Lexa figures it’s a start because she can’t keep feeling like vomiting every time she thinks of Costia because she knows that’s not healthy.

Lexa doesn’t look at the name that Clarke has written on her lock. It’s none of her business. She does watch Clarke take a deep, shaky breath as she hooks the lock into the gate, pushing it closed. She takes a step back. “Did that make you feel better?” Lexa asks and Clarke’s lips are pursed and her nostrils flare.

“No.” She mutters and she walks away from the gate, leaving Lexa alone in front of it.

Slowly, Lexa writes Costia’s name on the bronze of the lock. She brings the lock to her lips. “I’m sorry but I have to leave you here. I can’t carry this with me any longer. Forgive me.” She murmurs against it before kissing it gently and pulling it away. She locks it on the gate.

And she doesn’t really feel any different.

Maybe it’s going to take more than a symbolic gesture to get rid of the weight on her chest.

-

The drive to Winnemucca, where the Humboldt Museum resides, is about an hour from Lovelock.

They’re both quiet for most of the drive but the silence is nothing like yesterday. It’s comfortable and companionable and there’s something comforting about knowing that at any moment, she can reach out and turn Lexa to her and kiss her.

Lexa seems to get more and more excited the closer that they get to the museum. She starts to spout off random facts about the material within the museum that Clarke figures no normal person should ever know. She has to be some kind of alien. Or superhuman. But she is kind of endearing, especially when she gets passionate about the mammoth bones found within the museum.

Clarke mostly follows behind Lexa, who is moving at an alarmingly quick pace. Lexa tells her bits and pieces of fact about nearly every piece within the museum.

They reach a section that’s just filled with Oldsmobiles and based on the look on Lexa’s face, Clarke is fairly certain she knows what her ‘O’ face is. Clarke watches her drag her fingers across the metal and look at the cars in wonder. There’s nobody else in the room with them so Clarke says, “Why don’t we hop in?” And Lexa looks at her skeptically for a moment before her eyes scan the room.

“Clarke, we aren’t allowed.” She nearly hisses and Clarke rolls her eyes. She bypasses the rope and climbs into the passenger side of the car. She leans down, her face just a few inches from Lexa’s face.

“Come on Lexa, live a little. Loosen those reigns and have a little fun.” She says, her voice just barely above a whisper and Lexa does one last sweeping glance of the room. Then she nods. She goes to the other side and climbs into the car. She puts her hand on the steering wheel, a grin on her face. “How does it feel?” Clarke asks and Lexa drags her hands around the steering wheel and shifts around her in her seat. She exhales.

“As incredible as I’d imagined.” And then she looks over at Clarke with a smirk, “Where to Miss?” She asks and Clarke recognizes the line from Titanic. She almost wants to roll her eyes but she doesn’t because somehow, this feels important. So she just scoots closer to Lexa so their thighs are touching and she puts a hand on Lexa’s knee. She rests her head against Lexa’s shoulder and she whispers,

“To the stars.”

(She might not know what she’s doing with Lexa, besides that she wants to kiss her because it helps her forget, but in these moments, she has hope that she’ll figure it out.)


	4. a little more brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes that wait was long, wasn’t it? apologies. school, work, and then school got in the way. i make no promises about when the next update may come but i will try and be quicker than nine months! i do not give up on stories. i promise this will be finished but you'll all have to bear with me on the timeline. also please note that this chapter does contain inflammatory and derogatory language and emotional abuse so please be cautious!

Lexa won’t look at her.

Clarke’s learned enough about her passenger by now to know that it likely has nothing to do with her. Lovelock, for what it was worth, seemed to take more out of Lexa than it did Clarke. Since they left the museum nearly an hour ago, Lexa has barely said more than two words. She has her hands folded in her lap and her head turned toward the window. Her knee is bouncing and it’s really fucking distracting. (Okay, so maybe it’s just because it’s Lexa but really, how is she supposed to focus on the road when Lexa’s really nice, really toned leg is in her periphery?)

They’re stopped at a red light in some town Clarke doesn’t know the name of because she needed gas. She reaches a hand out and grips Lexa’s knee. “You’ve got to stop that,” Clarke says, a smirk on her face and amusement in her tone that Lexa doesn’t seem to catch. Her knee stills and she looks down at it, biting her lip.

“Sorry. Bad habit,” She mumbles, her words slurring just enough that that she’s barely able to understand her, and she still won’t look Clarke in the eye. The light turns green and Clarke presses her foot onto the gas, her hand still resting on Lexa’s bare knee. Clarke is halfway down the next road when Lexa clears her throat.

“Are you going to leave that there?” She asks and suddenly, Clarke becomes hyperaware of Lexa’s skin beneath her hand, the raised bumps beginning to form against the creases in her palm, which is suddenly sweaty, so she yanks it away and puts it back on the steering wheel. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, the sign for the highway coming back into view. “I never said I didn’t want it there, Clarke,” Lexa comments, once they’ve started to pick up speed on the highway again. Clarke’s hand twitches and she’s tempted to put it back where it was but instead, she just tightens her grip on the wheel.

“I….better keep two hands on the wheel,” Clarke mumbles and out of the corner of her eye she sees Lexa’s face fall, her non smile falling into something even….sadder than a frown if it were possible. “Safe driving and all that,” She continues because for some reason, she can’t bear the thought that she’s the reason for anything other than a smile on Lexa’s face.

She doesn’t smile, not this time, but she’s not frowning anymore and maybe a neutral expression is as close to win as Clarke is going to get.

She’s okay with that.

-

Her leg tingles where Clarke touches it, every time she thinks about it, for hours after she pulls it off.

And she wishes that it didn’t.

She doesn’t feel any lighter than she did an hour ago and she still feels as if the ghost of Costia is sitting in the backseat of the car, eyes piercing the back of neck, keeping her in this strange kind of chokehold.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy. You can’t just….lock away years of love and expect it to fade completely because you wish it could. Lexa would never be foolish enough to believe that. She just thought it would help.

And she knows she’s been quiet - and she knows that Clarke has noticed. The glances out of the corner of her eyes clue her in. But there’s nothing she can think of to say. Nothing that won’t be admitting to things she’s been afraid to even think of. 

There was something about Clarke’s touch that brought her back into reality. Grounded her. Took her back to the present. So she focuses on the tingle still in her leg because she can’t afford to disappear. Not now.

They’re crossing the border into Utah just as the sun begins to set. The sky is a brilliant shade of orange and Lexa is captivated. “I understand,” Lexa mutters before she has a chance to think about what she’s saying. She turns to Clarke, whose eyebrows are furrowed and her eyes are shrouded in confusion.

“Understand what?” She asks and Lexa gestures toward the sky with her chin.

“Why you like this color so much. It’s breathtaking,” She explains, not taking her eyes off of the horizon line. The car veers to the right then and comes to a halt. “What are you doing, Clarke?” She exclaims and Clarke is already opening her door.

“It’s not the same from a car,” She says. They’re in the middle of a highway. Granted, not a busy one, but there’s still something about it that makes Lexa’s heart race. Clarke walks around to the front of the car, sitting on it and dangling her feet off the edge. She looks back toward Lexa, who is still seated firmly in the passenger seat, and pats the empty spot next to her. “Come on,” She invites and Lexa can’t help but smile now. It doesn't appear that Clarke will let this drop and Lexa had been on the road with her long enough to not expect her to. So she opens the door and climbs out. She puts both of her hands against the bumper of the car, leaning against the hood. She tilts her head toward the sky. Clark was right. It is more beautiful without the obstruction of a window.

“It's beautiful,” Lexa says,voice just barely above a whisper. She's entirely too taken by the sight in front of her to realize that Clarke is looking at her when she replies,

“It really is.”

-

She's not sure when she became a cliche but she couldn't take her eyes off of Lexa, even for a second, and she  _ was  _ referring to the sunset when she said it but….well Lexa was beautiful too.

They don't stay long, sitting on the hood of the car, because the sun is setting and neither of them have the desire to drive in the dark. They're close to a town and Clarke pulls into the parking lot of the first motel she sees. Lexa, again, offers to foot the bill. She isn't quite sure just how rich Lexa is and she doesn't want to ask.

She's exhausted, she's been driving all day, and once her back hits the bed, she's sure she's not going to move again for the rest of the night. Lexa, modestly, changes into her pajamas in the bathroom. Clarke is already half asleep by the time Lexa comes out but she’s alert enough to open one eye. Lexa’s hair is down, falling lightly across her shoulders, and she’s in that same pair of peach pajamas from that first night. Her eyes are weary and Clarke knows that whatever she left at Lovelock today can’t be too far behind her yet. So she scoots over, shifting herself to near the edge of her twin bed. “Come here,” Clarke calls out and Lexa looks at her with furrowed brows.

“We have two beds here, Clarke,” Lexa replies, confusion evident in her tone. Clarke just shrugs. She doesn’t offer any more of explanation, because she doesn’t have one, but there’s a lot of her that just wants Lexa close to her. There's not a coherent way she can think of to say that. Lexa stares, motionless, for a moment before she drops her things and walks toward Clarke. She sits on the edge of Clarke’s bed and Clarke watches her. She's dragging her fingers along the ridges of the blanket. And she's still so far away so Clarke reaches a hand out and grabs her wrist. She looks at her with wide eyes and hopes her eyes ask the question her mouth can't seem to form. Lexa is biting her bottom lip and her eyes glance from Clarke's hand on her wrist to the empty space next to her head. She nods lightly to herself and scoots backwards. She kicks her legs up onto the bed, in the most dainty way that Clarke has ever seen. Clarke lets go of her wrist and watches as she slowly leans down. Her head rests against the upright pillow and she crosses her ankles. Clarke grabs the remote from the side table next to her and raises her eyebrows. “Pawn Stars or porn?” Clarke asks. Lexa laughs and Clarke swears she feels the tension in Lexa begin to melt away. It’s the first time she’s laughed all day and there’s something like pride swelling up in the pit of Clarke’s stomach - a feeling she can’t quite afford.

“Pawn Stars,” Lexa answers and Clarke flips through the channels til she finds it. It takes less than a minute before Lexa is completely engrossed in the television in front of her. It’s like watching a child enthralled by Blues Clues.

The men on screen are arguing about a pair of old shoes when Clarke realizes that Lexa is closer than she had been before. Their thighs are nearly touching and Clarke can feel the heat radiating off of her body. And Clarke still wants to be closer.

Maybe she’s still...affected by the day but she just wants to feel close to somebody.

Before she has a chance to even think about it, she moves closer to Lexa and wraps an arm around her shoulders. She feels Lexa jump underneath her. “What are you doing?” She murmurs and Clarke closes her eyes.

“You can move if you want to,” Clarke replies because she can’t give an explanation. In fact, there’s not any part of her that even knows why she’s doing this. Clarke feels the tension leave Lexa’s shoulders then and she relaxes into Clarke’s side.

“I don’t,” She nearly whispers. Clarke smiles.

It’s not long before Clarke’s eyelids begin to feel heavy. The last thing she remembers before her eyes fall shut is the smell of Lexa’s hair.

-

Lexa wakes the next morning still cuddled into Clarke’s chest. It takes her a minute to remember where she is. When she does, the feeling of safety and comfort she felt before her eyes opened, disappears.

God, what had she been thinking? Kissing Clarke was one thing but falling asleep next to her, purposefully? That was something entirely different. Something more intimate. And she’s not sure that….whatever this is between them constitutes intimacy. She moves quickly away from Clarke’s side, forcing the arm that was still around her shoulders to drop to the bed. Clarke’s eyes open just a moment after. She blinks, slowly, and the moment feels oddly similar to two days prior. “What are we doing here, Clarke?” Lexa asks and Clarke’s eyes are barely even open. Clarke rubs at her eyes with the back of her palm.

“We were sleeping,” Clarke mutters grumpily. Lexa bites her lip.

“That’s not what I mean Clarke and you know it,” Lexa fires back. Clarke sighs.

“It’s too fucking early for this,” Clarke grumbles. She sits up and kicks her legs over the edge of the bed. “What are you asking me?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“We fell asleep together, Clarke.” Lexa exclaims. Clarke smirks.

“Is that what happened? Never would have guessed.” Clarke interjects and Lexa glares. She goes quiet for a moment. She’s not sure what kind of response she was expecting from Clarke but she’s learning very quickly that the less emotional, the more likely it is to come from her mouth. Lexa takes a deep breath.

“What are we doing?” Lexa asks again because she just doesn’t  _ know  _ and she’s never been the kind of person who was comfortable not knowing anything. Clarke is silent for a moment.

“Why do we have to define it? I like kissing you. I like being next to you. It doesn’t need to be more than that,” Clarke says and Lexa feels her fists clench involuntarily. She likes kissing Clarke too. And she doesn’t  _ need  _ it to be more than that. She just. Needs to know where the line is. “Do you ever just let things happen to you?” Clarke asks and Lexa freezes.

“Never,” Lexa replies and it’s true. The last time she just ‘let things happen’, she had her heart ripped out of her chest. She’s not eager to let that happen again. Especially not with Clarke. This girl she barely knows. Clarke raises her hand and gestures toward herself with a finger. Lexa takes a step forward. Then another. Until she’s standing directly in front of Clarke, who reaches out with both of her hands to grip Lexa’s hips. She feels a tingle in her spine. Clarke’s thumbs brush over her hip bones. Then she leans in and her lips replace the place where her fingers were. Lexa shivers.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Clarke whispers and Lexa’s mouth has gone dry. She nods.

“Good things happen if you just let them,” Clarke continues and then drops her hands from Lexa’s hips. She stands then. “I’m gonna shower,” She says with a smirk. She drops a kiss to the corner of Lexa’s mouth before she walks to the bathroom. 

Lexa isn’t sure how long she stands there, frozen.

It doesn’t occur to her until she hears the sound of water hitting porcelain that she’d let Clarke do pretty much anything to her. Without even thinking twice.

-

Lexa has a paper map open on her lap that she grabbed from the lobby of the motel when they checked out. She’s not sure why - the GPS on her phone is still working perfectly. She’s got her feet crossed on the edge of the dashboard, her fingers tracing over the roads on the map of Utah. They’re heading into Salt Lake City, as per Lexa’s request, for a reason she won’t quite tell Clarke. She’d gone quiet and Clarke swore she saw a blush cross her cheeks when she’d asked so she let it drop.

“We’re almost there,” Lexa says softly as they pass a sign that says ‘Salt Lake City - 12 Miles’. Clarke smirks.

“Thanks for confirming - the sign wasn’t a dead giveaway,” She jokes and Lexa’s eyes rise off the map into a glare. Clarke continues to smile because there’s no real feeling behind the harsh look.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Clarke,” Lexa says disdainfully. Clarke snorts.

“You know the only people who say that are people who don’t have a single sarcastic bone in their body and envy those who do, right?” She asks. This time Lexa rolls her eyes.

“Defend yourself if you must,” Lexa says, quite overdramatically if Clarke may say so.

“Drama queen,” Clarke scoffs and turns her attention back to the road in front of her. She can see the silhouette of the city in front of her and she finds she’s quite eager to be back into a big city. Yes, being on the road is nice and there’s a sense of freedom that comes with it but skyscrapers and concrete have always felt like home. She hears the crinkling of paper and assumes Lexa’s finally closing up the map that really, they never needed in the first place. “I don’t know why you got that,” Clarke says, gesturing toward the now folded paper map. Lexa shrugs.

“Paper is easier to hold onto than a moment,” She says simply. “I want to remember this, Clarke. This,” She holds up the map, “Is a way to make sure I can do that,” She finishes and Clarke suddenly feels quite foolish for making fun of it in the first place. She goes quiet for a moment as they pull into heavy traffic.

“I’m-” She starts but Lexa shakes her head.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not really your style, Clarke,” Lexa says with a soft smile that assures Clarke that she isn’t mad at her, not in the slightest. Her grip on the steering wheel loosens.

“So do you want to tell me what you’re so keen to see in Salt Lake City?” Clarke asks, changing the subject. There’s a rush of color into Lexa’s cheeks again which, honestly, just makes Clarke smile.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Lexa replies, a small smile pulling at one side of her mouth. “But I was doing some research on other things to do in the city and there’s actually quite a bit. I’d say we have quite a full day ahead of us, Clarke. Are you ready for it?” Clarke grins.

“Bring it on.”

-

They sit in traffic for entirely too long and Lexa’s legs are numb. The moment the pull off the highway, she insists on getting out and stretching her legs. She hasn’t decided where exactly she wants to go first, and seeing as she’s the only one who knows anything about this place, she knows she’ll get to decide. She stretches her back first, reaching her arms over her head. She feels her shirt ride up the sides of her torso and the wind hit the exposed patch of skin on her stomach. She leans to the side then and her shirt follows suit. She feels it fall nearly to the elastic on her bra. She’s just barely straightened up when she feels Clarke’s hands on her hips, pushing her back against the car. Lexa raises her eyebrow. Clarke’s pupils are blown wide. Lexa’s legs feel like jelly and she wishes she had more power in this. But the longer that Clarke looks at her with that hungry look in her eyes, the weaker she feels. Her eyes flit down to Clarke’s lips. “You are…” Clarke starts and then her voice trails off. She kisses her instead of continuing. Any thought Lexa might have had lingering on the tip of her tongue was swallowed by Clarke then. Her mind went blank and then only thing she could think of was how Clarke felt against her. How her fingertips pressed into her hipbones. How her hair felt between her own fingers as she couldn’t help but  _ pull _ . Then how empty she felt when Clarke pulled away. “We need,” She pauses to catch her breath, “To start being tourists before we become the attraction,” She finishes, gesturing with her head toward the people walking past who have very obviously been watching them. Lexa feels her cheeks flush again.

“You started it,” Lexa replies breathlessly. Clarke laughs, releasing Lexa’s hips and pulling back.

“I wasn’t the one showing off her perfectly toned abs so I’d argue that you started it,” Clarke rebuts. Opening her car door, Lexa says,

“I was stretching. Your misinterpretation of my actions led you to backing me against a car, thus making you the one who started it.” She has a triumphant look on her face. Clarke leans over and bites her bottom lip, gently, teasingly, but enough to make her cross her legs. Clarke sits back in her seat and puts her hands back on the wheel.

“Alright, tell me where we’re going,” She says and Lexa’s practically too speechless to give her directions. She does manage, however, to point forward.

They’re halfway to the spot where Lexa’s decided to take them when it strikes her to ask, “How do you feel about hikes?” Clarke looks at her out of the corner of her eye.

“What kind of hike are we talking?” She asks and Lexa shrugs. She looks down at her phone, pretending she doesn’t know exactly how many miles it is.

“It’s a roughly seven mile hike uphill,” She says nonchalantly. “From the top, there are 360 degree views of the lake,” She continues. There’s a light sigh.

“I’m not dressed for a hike,” Clarke says. Lexa looks over at her jean shorts and flip flops. Yeah, decidedly  _ not  _ the best outfit for a fourteen mile trek. “So I would have to change first. But yeah, I’m in,” She says, smiling to Lexa.

They stop at a Wal-Mart where they both find clothes to change into. Lexa buys granola bars and water bottles while Clarke’s changing, so she doesn’t feel quite so strange about using the bathroom without being a customer. When Clarke emerges from the bathroom, yoga pants tight on her thighs, Lexa feels her mouth go dry. 

Okay. She gets it now. Clarke smiles at her and Lexa, very weakly smiles back. She licks her lips as Clarke approaches. “You’re right. I did start it,” Lexa says and Clarke furrows her brow. Lexa’s eyes travel the length of Clarke’s body, resting on the curve of her ass for just a moment too long before they return to meet her eyes, which are crinkled with laughter.

“You gonna push me against the car?” Clarke whispers and Lexa wraps her arm around Clarke’s side. She grips her hip and starts moving them toward the exit.

“I have slightly more self control than that,” She responds though only just. Her hand drifts down from Clarke’s hip and she rests her palm on her ass. Clarke’s bottom lip is pulled into her mouth, to prevent herself from smiling.

“You call that self control?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“It’s better than what you have,” Lexa retorts and Clarke doesn’t reply, presumably because there’s no argument. At least Lexa managed to keep herself from pushing Clarke against the wall in a Wal-Mart (though she was quite close doing so).

“What’s in the bag, big spender?” Clarke finally asks as the reach the car and detach.

“Provisions,” Lexa explains as she settles back into her seat.

“In case we what, get stuck in the wilderness and have to fend for ourselves in a state park?” Clarke jokes and Lexa just smiles.

“Exactly. You can never be too prepared for the elements,” Lexa explains and Clarke shakes her head.

“You know I can never figure out what the hell is going on in your head,” She says but there’s no air of frustration and it seems almost soft. So Lexa smiles.

-

Clarke walks behind Lexa simply to enjoy the view. And the view is really quite nice. Lexa’s wearing very tight, very short shorts. Her legs are toned and the sweat gleaming off of her just makes her  _ more  _ attractive. Lexa looks back at her from over her shoulder. She’s smirking. “C’mon Clarke, thought you could keep up?” And it’s the challenge in her voice that causes her to speed up. Fuck the view. She’s got more than enough time to take in the scenery if she so chooses.

“It won’t do you a whole lot of good to challenge me, Woods,” Clarke says as she matches Lexa’s pace. Lexa’s eyebrows raise and she has a smug look on her face that Clarke is desperate to take off. 

“And why is that, Clarke?” She, entirely too innocently, shoots back.

“Because I don’t lose,” Clarke replies confidently.

“Sounds like you might have an ego problem,” Lexa tuts and Clarke raises an eyebrow. She leans in close to Lexa, who is closer to the edge of the trail near the trees and nudges her, causing her to slightly lose her balance.

“Careful there, they might think you’re one of them and never let you out,” Clarke jokes and Lexa rolls her eyes.

“You’re not very funny,” Lexa mutters. Clarke throws, an admittedly very sweaty, arm around Lexa’s shoulder and pulls her in close to her.

“I’m hilarious,” She defends and then kisses Lexa on the temple. “You taste like sweat,” She states.

“Astute observation. As I have been expending energy in the sun, it’s to be expected,” Lexa informs Clarke, who is rather unimpressed by Lexa’s scholarly approach to her comment. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s keep going. I want to be at the top before sunset. I have an idea,” She says with a smile.

“You're not going to push me off, are you?” Lexa asks and Clarke laughs.

“Not unless you do something to deserve it,” She replies.

And it takes them roughly two and a half hours to reach the top of the peek, and only that long because Lexa often had to stop and observe the Bisons and goats in their natural habitat. Of course, Clarke thought it was absolutely nerdy but there was something...special about watching Lexa’s eyes go soft like that. She’d never seen them that way before. So she didn’t push to leave. She just leaned against a tree and watched Lexa while Lexa watched the animals.

The reach the top and the view is everything Lexa promised. A clear, 360 degree view of the Great Salt Lake. The sun is still gleaming off of it and it's nearly enough to take her mind off of her ears that won't quite pop. Fucking altitude. “It's breathtaking,” Clarke says at a voice just above a whisper.

“I know,” Lexa responds in kind. They stand there, both of them in quiet awe for quite some time before Lexa breaks the silence. “What was your idea?” She asks and it takes Clarke a moment to come back to the present.

“What?” She asks, shaking her head.

“Your idea. You wanted to be here before sunset because you had an idea. What is it?” Lexa repeats with a smile on her face, most likely at Clarke’s expense. Clarke smiles then. She gestures toward a rock that is illuminated by the sun on the horizon.

“Sit over there.” She says, well, nearly demands. Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Can you just. Do something without asking questions for once?” Clarke says and Lexa shakes her head, turning to walk toward the rock. She leans against it and raises her hands.

“Alright. I’m here. Care to tell me why now?” Lexa shouts because they’re a distance apart now. Clarke shakes her head. She puts her bag on the ground and kneels down next to it. From it, she pulls a sketchbook and a pencil. “What are you going to do with that?” Lexa questions and Clarke raises an eyebrow, insinuating that she should probably keep her mouth closed. Clarke walks toward her, situating herself on a nearby rock.

“Okay, I need you to shift over just a little bit. Make yourself comfortable, I don’t know how long this is going to take,” She says and Lexa clears her throat. “What?”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing,” Lexa huffs.

“I thought it’d be obvious by now or are you being intentionally dense?” Clarke comments as she squints and tilts her head. “I’m drawing you, idiot. The lighting won’t be better anywhere else. So will you please move over just a little bit?” And Lexa finally does as she’s told and moves into the perfect place, where the sunlight looks a halo against her head and her skin looks as if it’s glowing. She looks stunning. “You look great. Now don’t move,” She says and puts pencil to paper.

-

Her nose itches.

She’s not sure how long she’s sat there, watching Clarke look at up at her every so often, biting her bottom lip in concentration, but finally Clarke looks up with a satisfied smile. “There. You’re perfect,” She whispers and Lexa’s grateful that her cheeks are still flushed from walking. “Want to see?” Clarke asks and Lexa nods. Clarke walks over and puts the sketchbook on Lexa’s lap. She picks it up with gentle hands. It’s all done in pencil but there’s still so much depth and dimension. It looks just like her. Except...more.

She looks beautiful.

More beautiful than she’s ever seen herself before. She wonders if truly, this is how Clarke sees her. Because it certainly isn’t the way that she sees herself. She’s never seen herself look this effortlessly pretty. “Is this - do you?” The question barely gets out of her mouth and she feels stupid for even asking. Clarke smiles.

“Lexa, this is what you look like. I made sure it was perfect. It’s the closest thing to an exact likeness you’re going to get without a camera,” Clarke says.

“You’re very talented, Clarke,” Lexa compliments and Clarke shrugs.

“It’s easy when you have a good subject,” She compliments back. Lexa stares at it for a few moments longer. She wants to burn the image in her brain because she never wants to forget the way Clarke sees her. She had previously thought it impossible for anybody to see her that beautifully and she doesn’t want to forget this moment any time soon. Finally, she hands it back. “Do you like it?” Clarke asks and Lexa hears a twinge of nervousness in her voice. Lexa grins.

“I do,” And she can’t say anything more than that because she might cry and there’s no way she’s going to cry in front of Clarke. Clarke stands.

“Let’s go. We have to get a hotel. My feet are fucking killing me and if I have to do anything else tonight, I’m probably going to kill you,” She says cheerfully. “No offense,” She tacks on with a grin. Lexa shakes her head.

“Let’s go,” She agrees and they head back down the hill.

It doesn’t take them nearly as long to find their way back to the car and by the time that they do, Lexa’s feet are begging to get out of her shoes. She pulls them off the moment she sits down.

“Oh thank God. Is this what dying feels like? I think it might be,” Clarke moans.

“And you call me a drama queen,” Lexa teases. Clarke glares at her and Lexa knows that now is the time she should probably keep it shut.

Lexa decides that tonight, she’s going to spring for an actual hotel. With a nice bathroom and more importantly, a nice bath. She figures they’ve both earned it. So she drives past all of the motels they see and drive into the city. They’ll head to the first hotel that they find. Lexa shuts down Clarke’s protest with a shake of her head. The topic of money has yet to come up with them but Lexa knows that it’s only a matter of time. They pull up in front of a hotel and Lexa springs for valet parking. “I don’t want to walk through a parking ramp,” Lexa defends before Clarke has a chance to protest.

She buys one of the only rooms available, a suite near the top floor. They take their keys and Clarke is quiet. Her arms are crossed the entire elevator ride and she steps out before Lexa. Clarke’s taking off her shoes, still in silence, when Lexa has to ask, “What’s wrong?” Clarke sighs.

“You pay for everything,” And there it is. She knew it wouldn’t be long. Clarke gestures to the room, which is quite large. “This room is fucking insane. I don’t even want to think about how you’re able to finance everything we’ve done so far. What the fuck are you? A drug dealer? A mobster?” Clarke practically explodes and Lexa flinches. It’s her turn to sigh.

“No, I’m not a drug dealer, though I have heard that is a rather lucrative business,” Lexa jokes and Clarke glares. Lexa sits on the edge of the bed. “I have an inheritance. A rather large one at that. I could spend thousands on this trip and barely make a dent in it,” Lexa says with a shrug. Clarke’s eyes are wide. “My family is old money. Textiles and such. My Grandmother died when I was 7 and she left a portion of her fortune to me. That equaled nearly 2 million dollars. I earned access to that when I turned 21. My Father owns a large technology business and my Mother works in the fashion industry. When they die, I stand to inherit both of their fortunes, which would amount to nearly 350 million dollars, and the controlling shares of my Father’s company” Lexa explains, quite uncomfortably, but as thoroughly as she can. See, she doesn’t quite enjoy discussing her fortune. In fact, she’d prefer it if nobody knew. It’s often something people tend to take advantage of once they do find out. So she doesn’t tell anybody.

“Holy fucking shit,” Is all Clarke says. “You’re a multimillionaire. You’re richer than Taylor Swift!” Clarke exclaims. Lexa shrugs.

“Well, not quite,” Lexa deflects. Clarke sits down next to her.

“Holy shit,” Clarke repeats.

“So you’ve said,” Lexa replies.

“Cool. Cool. I’m just gonna….take a bath. In the hotel room that my millionaire friend paid for,” Clarke says as she stands up and walks into the bathroom.

Lexa leans back onto the bed and les out a long breath. Shit.

-

The bath covers both her boobs and her knees and she thinks she’s never had a better bath in her life. It’s full of bubbles and it is quite relaxing but….she can’t quite get Lexa’s confession out of her head. It doesn’t matter, she knew Lexa was rich, she just didn’t know how rich. Somehow,  _ this  _ level rich makes her seem….untouchable. Like she’s someone Clarke shouldn’t even know. But she is still Lexa. The stubborn girl who lied about remembering a drunk kiss. The girl who got drunk on the beach and kept falling down in the sand. The girl who dragged her on a 14 mile hike just because. No amount of money made her anything more than human. Her head is firmly on her shoulders. And Clarke just hopes Lexa knows that she has no intention of taking advantage of her financial status now that she knows about it. She can still pay for her own diner meals and occasionally spring for a motel room.

She’s playing with the bubbles when the door to the bathroom bursts open. Clarke’s eyes widen and Lexa sits down on the closed toilet. “I don’t want you to treat me any differently than you did an hour ago. I’m the same person, fortune or not,” Lexa states and Clarke bites down on her bottom lip.

“I know that,” She says. Lexa nods.

“Good. I’m going to continue paying for things, alright? And you don’t get to protest if I decide we deserve a night in a nice hotel,” She chides and Clarke purses her lips.

“Mostly motels though, right?” She asks.

“If that’s what makes you comfortable,” She replies with a shrug.

“It is,” Clarke confirms. Lexa nods.

“Okay then. I’m going to leave you to your bath,” She says, standing up.

“You don’t have to. I think there’s room enough for the both of us,” Clarke says teasingly and Lexa blushes. Her arms come up to cross against her chest and she pulls them tightly to her.

“No, you enjoy it. I’m going to watch Tanked,” Lexa says with a small smile. Lexa closes the door behind her and Clarke smiles to herself. She really ought to call Raven. This roommate of hers might be the best thing that’s ever happened to Clarke.

-

She’s reclining on the bed and watching the team build a rather large fish tank when her phone starts to ring. Her Mother. There’s a shiver that goes down her back. She thinks about not answering it but Clarke’s still in the bath and she knows her Mother is relentless. She won’t quit til she gets an answer. So she picks up the phone and presses answer. “Hello,” She says coldly. There’s silence on the other end for a moment.

“Lexa? Where are you?” The slurred voice on the other end says. She sighs. She’s drunk. Of course she is. That’s the only reason she’d be calling this late. She’d forgotten it was two hours later there.

“On my way, Mother,” She replies. She finds her back straightening and her fingers shaking and they’re only speaking to each other over the phone.

“You were supposed to be here today, Alexandria. Why are you constantly going back on your word?” She spits and Lexa flinches. She takes a deep breath.  _ She’s not here. She can’t hurt you. She’s not here. She can’t hurt you.  _ She repeats in her head and she hopes that the more she repeats it, the better that she’ll feel. She knows it’s unlikely.

“I’m not going back on my word, Mother. I sent you word that I would be taking my time on the road. My companion and I are making a few stops. I will get there when I get there,” Lexa explains through a clenched jaw. 

“Companion, huh? Another dyke like you?” Her Mother shoots and Lexa feels her chest tighten.

“Mother, please,” She begs.

“What? Can’t handle hearing what you are? Fucking useless dyke,” She yells through the phone and Lexa feels tears push at the back of her eyes.  _ She’s not here. She can’t hurt you. She’s not here. She can’t you. _

“I’m going to hang up now. Go to sleep. I’ll see you when I see you,” Lexa says in lieu of a goodbye. She hangs up the phone to muffled protests. She swallows the lump in her throat. She won’t cry over her. She won’t. She’s spilled enough tears over the names her Mother has called her over the course of her lifetime and she won’t do it anymore. She refuses to give her Mother that power. Though the words echo in the back of her head, she tries to push them out. She’s stronger than this. Plus, she was drunk. Terrible things come out of her mouth when she’s drunk. She doesn’t always mean them. (Lexa knows she meant these - she’s said them sober and she’s sure she’ll say them again). She’s never managed to accept Lexa’s sexuality. It just made an already bad thing worse.

Her body is still shaking when Clarke comes out of the bathroom, humming to herself. She’s careful not to look too closely at her. Just in case she sees the tears. “Are you okay?” Clarke asks. Lexa nods.

“I’m fine. I’m going to take a shower,” She says, very quickly pushing past Clarke.

She locks the bathroom door, not chancing a surprise visit like the one she gave Clarke. Slowly, she takes off her clothes. She stands in front of the mirror, twisting her shoulder and she watches the bone protrude through her skin. It’s an odd sort of comfort, that. She’s been pressured to take up as little room as possible since she was able to  _ exist  _ in a space on her own. She keeps her arms close to her body. She makes sure her frizzy hair is in a ponytail. And after that conversation with her Mother, she needs to know that she still is small. And she barely takes up any space in the mirror. With something like contentment filling her stomach, she walks into the shower. The hot water hits her steadily and she lets the steam fog up the transparent walls.

She leans against the solid wall and as the steam melts away any protection she’s got left, the tears begin to fall. She lets her body fall until it can’t any longer and she’s sitting on the floor of the shower. The hot water hits her back and each drop feels like a punishment. One she rightly deserves. She sits there, shaking with sobs she can’t control, until the water goes cold.

-

She’s not wearing any pants.

She’s opted to save the rest of her pajama pants for a place where they’re more needed. She doubts a place like this would have a bedbug issue. There’s an episode of Finding Bigfoot playing in the background but Clarke’s not paying that much attention. Rather, her finger is hovering over the contact information of Finn Collins. Two days ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated to press it. Hell, two days ago she didn’t hesitate to press it. Now it feels. Different. Like she doesn’t need to. And if she pressed down, it would only be out of habit, not out of necessity. She has his voicemail memorized. If she needed to, all she had to do was press play on the memory it would recite the words back to her. But this has always been a comfort. At the end of the day, sitting with her phone in her palm, and calling him. She knows he won’t pick up - he’s dead. He can’t answer a phone, but there’s comfort in the habit. Ever since the funeral, it’s been something she’s felt like she’s needed to do. But tonight feels different.

She’s still trying to decide what to do when Lexa pushes out of the bathroom. Her eyes are red rimmed and she’s fully clothed. She stops in front of the mirror to braid her hair and she doesn’t make eye contact with Clarke. “How was your shower?” Clarke asks, dropping her phone to her side.  _ That  _ can wait. Lexa shrugs.

“It was a shower,” She answers, monotonously. Clarke raises an eyebrow. Lexa turns back toward her and closes her eyes. She swallows. “I don’t want to discuss it,” She says in a broken voice. Clarke nods. It’s good that Lexa realizes that Clarke’s not an idiot. She’s observant enough to notice not only the red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks but the change in her behavior. She’d rather Lexa just say she doesn’t want to talk about it than total avoidance of the topic. It’s a step forward. Clarke pats the bed next to her.

“Let’s get some sleep. If anything, we’ve earned that,” Clarke says and Lexa nods. She climbs into bed, underneath the covers. Clarke moves from on top to underneath. Lexa is facing away from her and Clarke isn’t quite sure what she should do. If she should try and do  something comforting, like hold her, or if she should just stay on her side of the bed and not push things. A few moments after Clarke’s turned off the lights she hears Lexa’s voice.

“Clarke?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” Clarke says, at a normal voice because really, there’s nobody else in the room that they’re at risk of awakening.

“You can…” She trails off. She moves closer to Clarke on the bed and Clarke thinks she knows what she means. She turns toward her and puts an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against her so their hips are against each others.

“Is this good?” Clarke whispers into Lexa’s ear. She feels Lexa nod against her shoulder. This is something different than a few nights ago. This is on purpose. This was Lexa asking to be held. Clarke hopes this means there won’t be any sort of freak out in the morning because that would ruin this. And she doesn’t really want anything to ruin this because Lexa feels really good in her arms and she thinks that maybe, she wouldn’t mind if they slept in a little bit tomorrow.

-

When she wakes up in Clarke’s arms this time, she doesn’t freak out. In fact, she tries to stay as still as possible so she doesn’t wake her up. She’d rather just a little more time because there’s a comfort in being in someone’s arms again. A comfort she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in quite some time. But, unfortunately, her body had to give her away when a few moments after waking up, she’s hit with the urge to sneeze. It’s quiet, like everything else she does, but still it’s enough to make Clarke stir. She grumbles just slightly and then groans, as one does when they’ve been woken up just a little too early. “Good morning,” Lexa murmurs, still facing away from Clarke, who has now buried her face in the back of Lexa’s shoulder.

“Time issit?” Clarke grumbles from her spot and Lexa can barely understand her.

“9:14am,” Lexa tells her and Clarke groans. “Oh don’t be dramatic, it’s not that early,” Lexa chides and Clarke just groans again. “Come one, there’s some places I want to take you before we head out on the road again,” Lexa says and finally this perks Clarke up. She raises her eyebrows.

“What are they?” She asks, intrigued. Lexa shakes her head.

“I’m not telling. Now get ready,” She says, finally standing and getting out of bed. “I’m driving,” She yells back as she walks into the bathroom.

As she’d been falling asleep last night, she’d thought to herself that there’s been a lot of things Clarke has done for her and not a whole lot of things that she’s done for Clarke. So this day? It’s for her. It’s the best way that Lexa can think of to say thank you. She’s done her best to find a few places that they can go that are relevant to what Clarke’s interested in. She can only hope that she enjoys them.

When Lexa emerges from the bathroom, Clarke is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. She’s looking at Lexa expectantly. “I hope I don’t have to change,” She says with a smirk and Lexa shakes her head.

“You’re perfect,” She replies, walking to her bag and shoving her pajamas into it. She slings it over her shoulder. “Ready?” She asks. Clarke nods. They leave the hotel and Lexa waits for the valet to get the car.

“I have to admit, the valet was nice,” Clarke says as they’re standing on the curb. Lexa smirks.

“I know,” Is all she says though there’s a smug smile on her face. Clarke nudges her with her with her shoulder.

“Shut up,” Clarke murmurs and Lexa laughs. The car is pulled up then and it looks sort of funny. A suited valet, driving an old blue car up in front of a fancy hotel. Clarke too seems to notice the irony because she’s biting her lip to keep back laughter. Lexa takes the keys from the valet and tips him generously. She slides into the driver’s seat. Clarke claps her on the shoulder. “Alright driver, take me away!” She announces and Lexa shakes her head.

“It doesn’t work that way,” She says and Clarke stares at her for a moment with wide eyes.

“I’m not even surprised you had a driver,” Clarke says, shaking her head. Lexa shrugs. It’s not exactly something she broadcasts but when she was younger, particularly when she had to travel alone, her parents would send her with a driver to and from school. They couldn’t be bothered to pick her up on their own time. They would much rather pay somebody else to do it for them. Once she graduated high school however, she refused to take the driver with her to college. She’d learn how to navigate a city by herself. She had to learn that she was capable of doing so. She’d been quite close with the man who had driven her from place to place from the time she was 4 until she was 18. George was quite nice. She occasionally sends him a facebook message to ask how his own children are doing. She sends them very nice birthday gifts every year. Mostly to make up for the many hours she took their own father away from them. She hoped they forgave her for that. 

Lexa puts the address into her phone and allows the GPS to lead them. The closer they get, the more nervous Lexa feels. She’s not quite sure why. Finally the sign for the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art comes into view and the butterflies in Lexa’s stomach fully erupt. She looks out of the corner of her eye and she sees Clarke’s smile widen. She points to the sign out the window, “Yeah?” She says simply and Lexa nods.

“You hiked 14 miles for me yesterday. Least I could do is walk through an art gallery for you,” Lexa says nonchalantly with a shrug. They pull into the parking lot and Clarke is grinning widely.

“Thank you,” Clarke says sincerely and Lexa shakes it off.

“It’s nothing, Clarke. You have interests, as do I. It’s only fair that this trip caters to both of them,” She explains. Clarke still pauses in front of the entrance to lean over and give Lexa a kiss on the cheek before they go in. Lexa pays the $5 donation for both of them and as soon as they’re inside, it’s like Clarke’s a kid in a candy shop. She’s bouncing from piece to piece and Lexa can barely keep up with her.

Her nerves have evaporated and the only thing she is now is grateful.

-

The art gallery really was an incredibly sweet gesture.

Clarke managed to drag Lexa through to each and every piece and even though she knew Lexa probably didn’t care about anything she was talking about, she couldn’t help the word vomit that came from her mouth. She supposes that where Lexa is quite nerdy about, well most everything, Clarke has her nerd niche when it comes to art and art history.

They find a cute bistro quite close to the art gallery to eat lunch and there’s something in the back of Clarke’s brain that wants to ask if this is a date. Most of her brain, however, doesn’t want to ask the question because she most certainly does not want the answer. Obviously, she would want the answer to be no. This, whatever they have, isn’t dating. Lexa doesn’t take Clarke on dates. They  _ do  _ things together but not with a romantic subtext. Maybe a sexual subtext but none of the flowers and fine dining bullshit. That’s not what this is about. 

Clarke’s panini sits in front of her, untouched. Lexa’s playing with her salad when Clarke decides that she can’t keep it inside anymore. “Is this a date?” She blurts before she can stop herself. Lexa looks up from her plate, surprised. She furrows her brow.

“No..?” She trails off, the question ‘why the hell are you asking me this?’ being left unsaid. “I know what we are, Clarke,” She says. She straightens up and rests her fork on the table. “This is more of a thank you. For doing everything that I have asked you to do since we’ve left San Francisco. That’s all,” Lexa confirms and Clarke does feel a bit better. And maybe even slightly foolish for assuming that Lexa hadn’t been able to keep feelings separate from physical affection.

“I’m sorry I just blurted that out like that,” Clarke says, finally feeling hungry enough to pick up her panini. Lexa waves it off.

“It’s fine. Just eat. There’s one more place I want to go before we leave,” She says, picking her fork back up and moving more leaves of her salad around.

It’s a little awkward for a little while but eventually, things return to normal and it’s like Clarke never even asked. They’re walking back to the car and Clarke asks, “Any chance you’re going to tell me where we’re going before we get there?” And Lexa shakes her head.

“No, this one needs to be a surprise,” She says with a soft smile. Clarke shakes her head. As if anything  _ hasn’t  _ been a surprise on this trip.

-

The last stop is the reason Lexa was so intent on coming to Salt Lake City in the first place. When she’d seen it, she knew she had to take Clarke there, if only for the irony. She makes sure Clarke’s eyes are closed when they pull up and she leads them to the front of the building, stopping at a sign. Lexa clears her throat. “Are you ready?” Lexa asks. Clarke sighs.

“I’ve been ready since we left the restaurant,” She replies quite impatiently.

“Alright, eyes open,” Lexa says and she watches as Clarke’s face melts into a smile and then nearly uncontrollable laughter. It’s precisely the reaction that she’d wanted. Clarke moves to stand next to the sign of The Clarke Planetarium.

“Take a picture,” She asks and so Lexa does. Clarke still can’t stop grinning. “This is fucking awesome, how’d you find it?” She asks.

“Google,” She replies with a smile. “That’s why I wanted to come here so badly. I doubt there’s a planetarium sharing your name elsewhere,” Lexa teases and Clarke nods. She moves forward and grabs Lexa’s wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go see space,” She says excitedly. It strikes Lexa as they walk in, that this may be as close as she gets to following Clarke to the edges of the universe and back again.

When they enter the auditorium, there is only one other couple inside. An elderly couple, pointing at the constellation of cassiopeia. Clarke and Lexa settle into seats next to each other and turn their heads up toward the sky.

The stars twinkle down at them and it’s the calmest Lexa’s felt all day. Everything, from the conversation with her Mother, to the date accusation from Clarke, just seems to melt away as she watches the stars above her. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Clarke whispers from her spot next to her. Lexa nods before realizing that Clarke can’t quite see her as it’s pitch black.

“Truly,” Lexa replies and she sounds nearly breathless. Maybe she is. She’s not sure it’s all because of the stars.

“Come on, it’s better if you’re laying down,” Clarke says, standing up and moving toward the edge of aisle. Lexa widens her eyes.

“Clarke, where are you going?” She hisses and Clarke shoots her a look.

“To the middle. There’s nobody else in here and even if there were, I doubt they would tell us no. Let’s go,” She says, ushering Lexa over with a hand. Lexa sighs. She really ought to learn how to say no to her.

Clarke is already laying down in the center when Lexa gets there. Lexa lays down next to her. “Better, right?” Clarke asks and it is.

Lexa wonders what space is like. If it’s silent. If, when you’ve been up there awhile, seeing the other planets starts to feel like passing your local park. She hopes not. She thinks that maybe space is free.

If she were in space, well, she wouldn’t have to deal with her Mother. There wouldn’t be the knot of dread in her stomach that she knows is the product of  _ knowing  _ she has to go home and deal with a summer of her Mother’s harsh words. At least though, there are places to hide. Closests to pretend look like Narnia, just look she did when she was a kid. She wonders if Mother ever found the one she’d decorated to look as much like Narnia as 9 year old could make it. Probably not. There are so many rooms with so many closets it’s unlikely anyone’s been in there but her. She’ll have to find it again. At least that’s something to do.

She wishes she were in space.

More than that, she wishes she were in space with Clarke.

They’re quiet still and in the midst of the silence, Lexa feels something against her fingertips. Clarke’s hand. She interlaces their fingers. They’re still silent and Lexa won’t dare ruin the moment.

She’s staring up at the fake sky, hand interlocked with Clarke’s, she feels light. And a hell of a lot like she could do this forever.


	5. my hands shake, i'm not usually this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaaaat only eleven days between updates? i'd call that a quick turnaround ;) this chapter is a little shorter than normal but i think i needed to let things stand. you'll see what i mean. i would encourage you all to listen to three little birds by bob marley when you reach the may 2013 flashback, as those are the lyrics present, and i think it adds to the ambiance. that being said, enjoy!

Lexa falls asleep nearly as soon as they leave Salt Lake City. She curls up on the passenger seat, tucks her arms around her knees and says, “I’m tired,” and very promptly after that, her breathing slows into a steady rhythm. Clarke keeps the radio low, just loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to wake Lexa. She knows she’s a light sleeper.

She looks quite small, tucked up the way she is. Clarke knew Lexa was thin but now she just looks frail. Like if Clarke touches her the wrong way or with too much pressure, she might break her. She knows that in reality she’s not that fragile but she certainly looks it.

They’re about two hours out of the city, and two hours from crossing the state line into Colorado from Utah. She hopes Lexa wakes up soon because there’s something she wants to ask her. When they’d left Salt Lake City, their next destination was left unclear. Lexa had fallen straight to sleep so Clarke hadn’t had the opportunity to ask. She headed toward Colorado, mostly because it’s a straight shot, and, well, for some other reasons too.

Clarke is humming along to Sugar under her breath when Lexa finally begins to stir. She opens her eyes wide at first and then they settle closed again. Then slowly, she blinks, yawning. “How long was I asleep?” She asks, her voice still raspy with exhaustion. Clarke looks at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Two hours, tops,” She replies with a smile. Lexa unfolds herself and stretches her arms above her head.

“Where exactly are we headed?” Lexa asks, looking out the window, where there really isn’t much to see save for a few dead trees and sand.

“I’m heading in toward Colorado. We should cross the border in about two hours,” Clarke explains. Lexa simply nods and continues to stare out of the window. Clarke figures now is as good a time as any to bring it up. She figures Lexa isn’t exactly fond of surprises so prior discussion is likely her best bet. “Listen, there’s something I want to ask,” Clarke starts hesitantly. Lexa looks over to her.

“Go ahead,” She permits.

“Weed,” Clarke blurts and Lexa’s eyebrows shoot up. “It’s legal in Colorado,” She continues and she feels color flood her cheeks. She keeps her eyes trained on the road because she certainly doesn’t want to look at Lexa.

“I’m well aware,” Lexa replies, a tone of amusement in her voice. “What’s the question?”

“Will you freak out if I buy some?” Clarke asks, chancing a glance over at Lexa who is looking at her with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye.

“No,” Lexa says, “I wouldn’t freak out,” And Clarke lets out a long breath.

“Good. Cause I was probably going to do it anyway,” She says with a grin. “Thought I’d be considerate and ask though,” Lexa rolls her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lexa mutters and she brings her legs back up to her chest and returns her attention to the window.

-

She’d taken a nap to try and forget the question Clarke had asked her during lunch. It hadn’t worked. She keeps her attention on the passing scenery but her mind is anywhere but on the sandy road. She hears Clarke ask “ _ Is this a date?”  _ in that less than savory tone and it feels like acid in her stomach.

It hadn’t been a date. Obviously. Lexa just wanted to do something nice. But it wasn’t a date.

Was it?

No. Of course not.

Besides, even if she wanted it to be a date, Clarke clearly didn’t and the last time Lexa checked, both parties had to consent in order for anything to be a date.

So it very decisively wasn’t a date.

But Lexa paid for everything. They held hands. That’s not what friends do. That’s what two people who are on a date do.

Except they were different. They didn’t seem to be doing anything right. Sure, sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they held hands and on very rare occasions, they fell asleep holding each other, but that didn’t mean that every time they went out and did something together, it had to be a date. Because they weren’t dating. They were just friends.

And Lexa wonders. Did she want it to be a date? She looks over at Clarke, who is still humming to herself and Lexa feels her stomach flip flop.

No. She didn’t.

(Okay, maybe she did.)

(But she’d never admit that out loud.)

Clarke suddenly turns the radio down and says, “Alright, you’ve been quiet too long it’s starting to freak me out. Talk to me, kid,” Clarke says and Lexa raises an eyebrow. She’s about to retort back when it occurs to her that she doesn’t actually know how old Clarke is. Older than 21, she knows that, but. She doesn’t know when her birthday is.

“How old are you?” Lexa decides to ask because she figures it might be nice to have this information in her arsenal. And it’s strange to her that she’s kissed this girl without even knowing how old she is.

“22,” She answers. “Why?”

“I just didn’t know. Curiosity,” Lexa responds with a shrug. Sh wonders if she should offer up the same information about herself. She decides that if Clarke wants to know, she’ll ask. “When’s your birthday?” Lexa continues and she doesn’t know why suddenly she’s so desperate for any information she can get about Clarke, but she is. She wants to learn about her. As much as she can.

“September 26th,” She replies. There’s silence for a moment and maybe Lexa’s waiting for Clarke to shoot the questions back but she doesn’t. She stays quiet.

Lexa tries not to feel disappointed.

(It fails.)

-

Lexa stays quiet for most the drive. 

Clarke wonders if it’s always like this. If there are just days, or hours, where she shuts down. Where she goes blank because this has happened more than once but she’s always come out of it bright.

So Clarke lets her be. She turns up the radio and she sings to herself while they drive. They cross the state line into Colorado just before the sun starts to set. Lexa’s fallen asleep again and Clarke is starting to yawn. She’s alone on the road and she takes one hand off of the wheel. She shakes Lexa’s shoulder. She jumps slightly, yawning. “Did I fall asleep again?” She mumbles and Clarke smiles.

“You did,” Clarke replies and Lexa’s bottom lip slips out from underneath her top lip. “I’m going to find a motel, okay? I’m exhausted,” and her statement is perfectly punctuated by a long yawn that makes Lexa laugh quite loudly.

“That’s fine,” Lexa replies and sits up in her seat. She’s turned back toward the window, legs crossed and chin upturned. Clarke quickly finds a Motel 6 and pulls into the parking lot.

“You ready?” Clarke asks and Lexa nods, still not making eye contact. She steps out of the car and grabs her duffle bag from the floor beneath her. She rests against the hood, arms crossed. Her eyes are tired and Clarke wishes she knew what the fuck was happening in her head. That she had the ability to read minds so she knew what caused this 180 degree change in her. She’s confused and Lexa’s not speaking. So Clarke sighs. “I’ll pay,” Clarke mumbles and Lexa doesn’t even bother to argue. That’s how Clarke knows something is really wrong.

Clarke goes in to pay for the room and she collects the key, mind still with Lexa. She spots a vending machine and she pauses at it. Thinking back to the first night they spent in the motel together, she puts a few coins in the machine. She buys a package of HoHo’s and walks out. 

She holds up the room key and gestures to Lexa from her spot by the stairs. Lexa pushes off the car and follows Clarke. She’s still quiet as they make their way to the room. Clarke opens the door and Lexa slips in, tossing her bag on the bed. She sits on the edge, bouncing on it lightly. Clarke pulls the package of HoHo’s from behind her back and tosses them on the bed next to Lexa, who looks down at them in surprise. “What’s this?” She asks and Clarke shrugs.

“Exactly what it looks like,” she replies, putting her own bag down on the bed. She looks at Lexa out of the corner of her eye and notices a small smile. The knot in her stomach starts to unravel. Strange. She hadn’t noticed it was there.

“You bought me HoHo’s?” Lexa asks and Clarke hears the crinkle of the package.

“You’ve been weird,” Clarke replies with a shrug. She watches as Lexa’s eyes shut tightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters and Clarke shakes her head.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Clarke replies because she doesn’t want to push but there’s still a part of her brain that needs to know if she’d done something wrong. Lexa licks her lips, holding a HoHo between two of her fingers.

“It’s not your fault,” she starts, as if she had read Clarke’s mind, “it just happens sometimes,” she twirls the HoHo around between her fingers, peeling off some of the chocolate. “I just get exhausted. Life is tiring, you know? So I need to sleep it off,” she explains and there’s very little feeling in her eyes. Clarke moves to sit down next to her. She puts a hand on her knee. They stay silent because Clarke isn’t sure what she should say, if she should even say anything at all, because she knows what Lexa’s describing but it’s far from her place to say anything. So she sits with her hand on Lexa’s thigh until she clears her throat. “I’m going to get changed,” she announces, taking her bag with her into the bathroom.

And Clarke starts to wonder if there’s something about Lexa she should be worried about.

-

Her pajamas smell. Both pairs, actually. She walks out of the bathroom, her duffle bag zipped and in the same thing she’d left in. Clarke is staring at her with a raised eyebrow. “Everything smells,” Lexa murmurs, wrinkling her nose.

“We have been on the road for almost a week and you’ve been wearing the same pajamas nearly every day. It was eventually going to come to this,” Clarke comments, scrolling through her phone. Lexa walks towards her and then she’s clicking her phone screen off, hugging it close her chest. Lexa tries not to be suspicious. Lexa looks out the window and notices that the sun has already set. “There’s probably a 24 hour laundromat open around here somewhere,” Clarke says, straightening herself up on the bed and Lexa feels her cheeks flush. She’s not exactly ready to voice it, but she’s never done her own laundry. Product of a home full of people paid to take care of her. She’d had her laundry sent out to be done when she’d lived with Raven. Clarke notices the uncomfortable look on her face and slowly, her mouth morphs into a smirk. “Don’t you dare tell me you’ve don’t know how to do laundry,” she says and Lexa feels her face go even redder. Her hand clenches her bag even tighter. Clarke shakes her head. “Come on. Let’s go,” she instructs, standing up off the bed. She grabs her own bag and moves toward the door. Lexa is still rooted in her spot, debating whether or not it’s worth the embarrassment to go with her. Clarke turns in the doorway. “Are you coming?” She asks and Lexa bites her lip. Finally, she walks forward.

“Fine. But you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” Lexa warns and Clarke lifts two fingers.

“Scouts honor,” she replies with a smile. Lexa shakes her head and pushes past Clarke out onto the balcony. Clarke locks the door and starts down the stairs. Lexa follows silently.

The ride to the closest laundromat is quiet, the only noise coming from Clarke’s GPS telling her turn. It wasn’t far, just a few blocks, and Lexa is hugging her back tightly against her chest. Clarke doesn’t try and speak to her, and for that Lexa’s grateful. It’s not her fault - it really isn’t. The question wouldn’t have bothered her so much if it wasn’t one of those days. A domino day, she liked to call them. A small thing happens and suddenly, everything on her shoulder feels like weighs one thousand pounds and it crushes her. She’d much rather be in bed, sleeping this off, than at a laundromat but she’s not eager to wake up smelly and honestly, she’s not sure she’d wake up okay tomorrow either.

Clarke pushes open the door to the nearly completely empty room. None of the machines are on and there is only one attendant, flipping through a magazine behind a window. She doesn’t even look up when the bell rings against the door. Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m going to get some coins. Go dump your stuff on one of those tables, okay?” She says, gesturing to one of the large white tables situated near the washing machines. Lexa nods and does as instructed. She doesn’t have a whole lot, most of her things packed in boxes she’d paid to have shipped to her Mother. As she rifles through the little bit of clothing she does have, she finds herself wishing she’d had the foresight to bring just a few more things. Or at least, a few more pairs of underwear. As she rifles through her bag, it occurs to her that she didn’t even bring a lingerie bag to wash her delicates in. She glances at the large, rusting washing machines out of the corner of her eye. Her nose wrinkles and her eyes glance down to the small, lacy pair of red underwear she holds in her hands. Yeah, that thing would  _ shred  _ them. She tosses the underwear back into the bag, a little more harshly than she ought to have. Clarke comes back with the coins and dumps them next to her. She looks at them like they’ve done something to offend her. Clarke laughs. “They don’t bite,” she jokes and Lexa’s gut twists. She bites her lip and shakes her head.

“Just….tell me how to do this,” she mumbles.

“Start with your light stuff,” Clarke says, taking things out of her bag and beginning to separate them. Lexa follows her lead, putting clothes into separate piles. Soon, she has a pile of light clothes, dark clothes, denim, and delicates. “Each machine is 25 cents. Since we’re the only ones here, we can use as many as we want. I take this side, you take that side?” Clarke suggests and Lexa nods. She loads up the machines, because at least that much she knows how to do, and waits for further instruction. Clarke has a pack of pods in her hands, which she’s throwing into her machines and turning them on. She comes by Lexa’s side and hands her the bag. “One in each should do it. I think the buttons on the machine should be pretty self explanatory,” Clarke explains with a wink. She moves back over to her side of the laundromat and sits up on one of the tables. Lexa bites her lip, for probably the fiftieth time tonight. She can feel the skin in her mouth becoming tender and she knows it’s going to hurt in the morning. She travels down the line of machines, putting in pods and using the (hopefully) appropriate settings. She can only hope the delicate settings are gentle enough for her valuables. Most of them were quite expensive and it would be quite a pain to replace them.

She doesn’t go to the same table as Clarke, instead she sits on an empty washing machine, The smell of laundry detergent fills her nose and suddenly, she’s not in the middle of nowhere, Colorado anymore. She’s in Maryland, in the basement of her home, hiding under freshly washed sheets.

-

_ July, 2010. _

“Do you think she’ll catch us?” Costia whispers, glancing out of the corner of her eye toward the entrance to the small laundry room. Lexa giggles and shakes her head.

“Not a chance. She took a sleeping pill with her mimosa at 11. She won’t be awake until at least dinner time,” Lexa replies, quite happily. She watches the tension melt disappear from Costia’s eyes.

“Good,” Costia replies, scooting closer to Lexa. The washing machine is roaring behind them. They’re both sitting on their knees, fingertips digging into the rug to support their weight. They’re hidden quite nicely behind a door and it’s the first time all week that Lexa feels like she can relax. She always feel better when she’s with Costia. “Oh, guess what?” Costia announces, excitedly. Lexa raises an eyebrow.

“What?” She responds, curious. Costia’s smile widens into a grin.

“I got a 96 on my history test. All thanks to you,” she says, quite pridefully. Lexa smiles and moves closer. She reaches a hand up and rests it on Costia’s cheek.

“Only mostly thanks to me. Some of it was you,” Lexa jokes and Costia turns her head into Lexa’s hand. “But mostly me,” Lexa whispers because Costia’s face is quite close to hers and there’s a swooping in her stomach when she remembers that she doesn’t have to resist kissing her anymore. She’s allowed to. So she does. There’s an eruption of butterflies in her stomach when their lips meet and Lexa knows that this is what true happiness feels like. She’s never felt anything like this before. No amount of money could ever make her feel like this. Costia made her feel richer than this house ever did.

“Mm, that never gets old,” Costia says when Lexa pulls away. Lexa laughs, lowering her head into Costia’s shoulder. She keeps it there for a moment, until the buzzer goes off on the dryer, forcing Costia to get up to remove the now dry sheets from the machine. Lexa watches as she holds them up to her nose, inhaling the smell and smiling. “There’s nothing like the smell of clean sheets. Nothing. You know that love potion in Harry Potter? I think this is what mine would smell like,” she explains, twirling around a few times, hugging the sheets close to her chest. Lexa is grinning and she shakes her head.

“You’re such a nerd,” Lexa says affectionately. Costia pauses.

“Come here, dance with me,” she asks, still not releasing the sheets from her arms. Lexa’s eyes widen.

“I don’t dance,” she states simply. Costia rolls her eyes.

“ _ No,  _ you think you don’t dance,” she holds out an arm and wiggles her fingers, “for me?” She asks, pushing out her bottom lip and damn it, she knows Lexa can’t resist when she gives her the puppy dog eyes. They’re just so damn convincing. She attempts to look reluctant as she stands. Costia’s triumphant smile lets her know that she doesn’t quite succeed. Costia’s hand is still held out and Lexa grabs onto it. Quickly, Costia pulls her in. Lexa’s pressed tightly against the sheet, which is still against Costia’s chest. She glances down at it, then up to Costia and raises an eyebrow. She laughs. “Leaving room for Jesus,” she says with a shrug. Lexa smiles again. She thinks maybe she hasn’t stopped smiling since they started dating and she hopes that she never stops. Slowly, Costia’s arm wraps around her waist and Lexa rests her head against her chest. Costia’s humming a tune into her ear and Lexa feels herself relax.

A few minutes later, they’ve made a makeshift tent out of the sheets and they’re hold hands beneath it. Lexa pretends they’re anywhere else but this house. “We’re going to get out of here someday,” Lexa says, turning her head to look at Costia, who is already staring at her with a soft smile.

“Yeah?” She says and Lexa nods.

“We’ll go everywhere. See everything. I promise,” Lexa continues with as much feeling as she can bring to her words. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to California,” Costia whispers and Lexa grins.

“Then that’s where we’ll go. Just you and me,” Lexa promises and Costia leans closer, putting her forehead against Lexa.

“You and me against the world, babe,” she says quietly.

“Against the world,” Lexa echoes, tightening her grip on Costia’s hand.

-

They’d been young and foolish then but Lexa had truly believed it. She thought that they would last, that they would be forever. That it really would be them against the world for the rest of their lives. But Costia’s  _ gone  _ and Lexa’s still fighting. And it’s exhausting to fight alone. There’s only so long she can wield her sword before she waves the white flag and let the enemy take her. And today, it’s starting to feel like it would be easier to fall to her knees and let herself succumb. Let the quicksand pull her down.

She hadn’t noticed the tears flowing silently down her cheeks until they begin to hit her bare knees. She wipes them quickly. She feels sick to her stomach and she clenches her eyes tightly closed. Her knees are pulled tightly against her chest and they’re shaking. She wants out.

She wants out of this laundromat.

She wants out of this state.

She wants out of this  _ life _ .

-

Clarke notices that she’s shaking and she doesn’t know what to  _ do _ .

This is the fragility that she’d noticed in the car and now she’s even more convinced that Lexa’s breakable. She’s on top of a washing machine, shaking, and the machine beneath her is barely moving. She’s watching from the other side of the room and she thinks she probably shouldn’t touch her. It looks like a panic attack and from what Clarke knows about them, from when Finn had them, it may not do any good to go near her. Clarke’s no expert in panic attacks but she knows that every person has them differently. So until she knows how Lexa reacts touch, she won’t go near her.

She notices Lexa’s machines switch off just a few moments after hers and Lexa doesn’t move an inch. Deciding that the only thing she can do is take her clothes out of the washing machine and move them to the dryers. She feels strange touching her underwear but it’s pretty clear that she’s not in a state to be doing in herself, as she hasn’t moved from her position on the washing machine nearly since they got there. Clarke hopes their things dry quickly because it’s nearing midnight and she’s quite tired. She can’t imagine Lexa is any less exhausted. Clarke waits, quite impatiently, against one of the dryers, one eye on her phone, the other on Lexa, who still has her head buried in her crossed arms. Clarke feels an ache in her chest and she wishes she could do more. She wishes that she were some sort of magician who just knew what to do when something bad happened to someone she cared about. Because she did care about Lexa. And seeing her like this? Felt like a stab to her heart.

But she can’t magically know what to do to make her feel better when she doesn’t even know what’s wrong.

Everything had been fine this afternoon. And then it wasn’t fine anymore.

And Clarke knows that’s how it works - things can be great one second, and horrible the next, but she just wished she could do more. 

The laundry finishes quickly and Clarke packs it up as fast as she can. Gently, she places her hands on Lexa’s knees. She jumps, blinking fast. “The laundry’s finished,” Clarke says softly and Lexa nods.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs and Clarke shakes her head.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” she replies, offering Lexa her hand once she’s off of the machine. She stares at it for a few seconds but then she takes it. Neither of them say anything. Not while they walk back to the car. Not when they get it. Not when Lexa refuses to let go of her hand once Clarke begins to drive.

They get back to the motel room and finally, Lexa lets go of Clarke’s hand. She grabs her bag and goes to the bathroom, presumably to change. Clarke collapses onto the bed, her eyes falling closed. She barely feels Lexa climb into bed a few moments later, staying firmly on her side.

-

Lexa doesn’t get out of bed the next day.

-

Her eyes are open but she doesn’t move.

When Clarke woke up, Lexa’s eyes were already open and she was still covered with her half of the comforter, looking as if she hadn’t moved at all the night before.

Clarke tried to speak to her, ask if she wanted anything for breakfast, but she got nothing more than a grunt in response.

She looks catatonic. It’s almost terrifying how little she moves. Clarke doesn’t even feel like she can be on the bed. It’s noon when she decides to go to the car and make a call that’s probably a few days overdue.

Raven answers the FaceTime call after just a few short rings. Her hair’s quite messy and Clarke can tell she’s just woken up. “Hey, did I wake you up?” She asks, not caring too much if she actually had. Raven wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ve been up for a little while,” she pauses, “SOMEONE’S been watching cartoons loudly since 6am,” her eyes travel away from the camera as her inflection goes up and Clarke’s curiosity is piqued. The only person she knows who wakes up that early to watch cartoons is…

“Bellamy!” She exclaims as he pops into frame, his shaggy hair covering most of his face and all of Raven’s.

“Dude, get out of the fucking way. She called me, not the dog shelter,” Raven indignantly says from behind his head. Clarke can’t help but smile. She misses them. And part of her heart aches for the easy banter that comes with conversing with them.

“I miss you guys,” she murmurs and Raven forcibly moves Bellamy’s head out of the way so Clarke can see her smile.

“We miss you too babe. This one,” she gestures back to Bellamy with her head, “has taken to following me around like a lost puppy. It would be endearing if he didn’t bring his fleas with him,” she jokes and Bellamy’s forehead wrinkles.

“Hey, those were there when I got here,” he defends and Clarke’s eyebrow raises.

“And when was that?” Clarke asks and Raven’s eyes are no cast downward.

“Two days ago,” he replies with a shrug and Clarke bites down on her bottom. The tips of Raven’s ears are red and Clarke watches her raise a hand and smack him lightly on the arm.

“Scram scooby. Isn’t Tom and Jerry still on?” Raven mocks and Bellamy rolls his eyes. He stands.

“See ya, Griff,” he waves goodbye and Clarke hears the closing of the door.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Clarke asks, amusement in her voice.

“I was lonely, he was lonely. We were lonely together,” Raven says with a smirk and Clarke shakes her head.

“Be careful, okay? He’s not exactly Mr. Commitment,” Clarke warns and Raven snorts.

“Have I ever been the poster child for commitment?” Raven asks and Clarke tilts her head.

“Fair enough,” she comments and there’s a short silence that settles between them. Raven watches her a moment.

“Why are you calling so early? Shouldn’t you be on the road?” Raven asks and Clarke takes a deep breath. She tells Raven just about everything that’s happened since the last time that they spoke. The kissing. The drawing. The money. The planetarium. The laundromat. Everything. “Wow, if I had known she was that loaded, I would have been much nicer to her,” Raven comments after Clarke has finally finished. Clarke hits her with a harsh glare. “Sorry, inappropriate,” she takes it back and Clarke sighs.

“Did she….ever do this? While she lived with you?” Clarke asks and Raven bites down on her lip.

“I wouldn’t have noticed if she did,” and she sounds apologetic about it but there’s still a flare of anger in her stomach because this could have been happening for years and nobody would have noticed. Not a single person would have tried to help her. Not even the person she lived with. “I’m sorry, Griff,” Raven starts and Clarke shakes her head.

“Don’t apologize,” and it comes out harsher than she wanted it to and Raven looks like she’s been stung.

“Look, she was always weird and antisocial. She never made an effort with me so I didn’t bother with her,” Raven explains and Clarke  _ knows _ , she does but she’s just….angry. So angry on Lexa’s behalf.

And maybe if Raven had tried, Clarke would have met her earlier and….well maybe she could have done something. Anything. 

“I may not understand this dynamic that you two have but...it’s temporary, Clarke,” Raven starts. “Once you get home, you’re going your separate ways and you’re never going to see her again. She’s a big girl. You can’t get caught up in her. Let her handle her shit. You’ve got your own. You can’t shoulder hers too,” she finishes and Clarke feels her face flush red. Maybe calling Raven was a bad idea. Her fingers are tense and her pointer finger hovers over the end call button.

“You’re right. You don’t understand it. I’ll talk to you later,” Clarke mumbles and she presses end. She leans her head against the headrest, sighing. Fucking. Shit.

-

The room is dark. She’s not sure if that’s because the drapes are pulled closed or because it’s nighttime.

It’s a bad day.

And maybe that’s an understatement.

She can’t move. Well, she won’t move. And even the blanket on top of her feels like a thousand pounds keeping her still.

This doesn’t happen often, in fact this is only the second time it’s happened in recent memory. Normally, she can handle things. She can handle her Mother. She can handle the memories of Costia, which seem to be found sewn into the fabric of everything she owns, everything she does. She can handle day to day life. But something about the way the smell invaded her senses shut her down and she needed a maintenance day.

Her head is still with Costia and Lexa knows that really, it’s never left. She had tried to leave the memories behind at Lovelock but if anything, it reminded her of what she never had a chance to get over.

She closes her eyes and in her head, a soft melody plays.  _ Every little thing is gonna be alright _ .

How could she say that? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what life was going to be like when she wasn’t in it anymore. Lexa closes her eyes tighter and then she’s in a hospital bed, the smell of clorox and perfume creating the most unpleasant feeling.

\- 

_ May, 2013. _

The steady beeping of the heart monitor both unsettles her and keeps her relaxed. On one hand, she knows that her heart hasn’t stopped, but on the other, she’s reminded of exactly why she’s there.

She’s not meant to be, but she’s curled up against Costia, her head resting against her chest. Costia’s sleeping and Lexa hasn’t been able to since Costia told her what was going on. She preferred to keep an ear out. “You’re not supposed to be on the bed,” comes a croaky voice from above her. Lexa turns up her head. She smiles.

“Couldn’t stay away,” Lexa replies and Costia grins.

“It’s the oxygen tube right? Makes me irresistible,” she comments and Lexa bites her lip. There’s a sinking in her stomach and a lump in her throat. Costia notices the change in her expression. “Oh come on, it was a joke,” she says softly and Lexa shakes her head.

“I know, I know,” and she does - humor has always been Costia’s way of dealing with difficult things. It’s just hard to stomach jokes about the fact that her girlfriend has cancer. Her nineteen year old girlfriend has terminal cancer. Costia places a featherlight kiss on the top of Lexa’s head.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Costia says and there’s confidence behind it that Lexa doesn’t understand because she’s  _ dying  _ and there’s no way around it. There’s nothing that can save her. Not this time. So how can everything be okay when she’s about to lose her?

“I don’t understand how you can say that,” Lexa says and Costia, slowly, raises a hand to Lexa’s chin to lift it toward her.

“You are beautiful, brave, and strong,” Costia whispers. “With or without me,” and Lexa wants to believe her but Costia has always been her strength. It’s been in her touch and in her words and in the way that she believed in her. But she doesn’t disagree with her. She figures it doesn’t do well to argue with her, not now. Instead, she bites harder on her lip to prevent the tears from falling. “I want you to promise me something, Lexa,” Costia says and Lexa nods against her chest.

“Anything,” she replies.

“Be great. Be amazing and show the world your shine. Cause I’ve always known it’s there and everybody else deserves to see it too,” Costia says and it’s very sentimental and something someone says when they know they’re about to die and Lexa’s not ready to accept that Costia’s ready to say goodbye.

“I promise,” Lexa whispers. Costia heaves a heavy sigh and there’s silence for a few moments. Then, she starts to hum.

“Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun,” she sings and her voice is barely there but it’s still the most beautiful thing Lexa’s ever heard, “three little birds pitch by more porch. Singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true. Saying, this is my message to you,” she pauses, kissing Lexa on the temple, “singing, don’t you worry about a thing. Cause every little thing is gonna be alright,” she trails off then, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t you worry about a thing. Cause every little thing is gonna be alright,” Lexa sings to herself as she listens to the steady beat of Costia’s heart and feels the rise and fall of her chest.

-

Losing Costia was the hardest thing she ever had to do. 

And she was hardly allowed to mourn her.

_ “She was a frivolous childhood crush, Lexa, don’t let her ruin your life.” _

And there’s not a single way that Lexa knows to get over the death of the girl you loved without mourning her.

The door to the room finally opens and Lexa doesn’t have to turn around to know that it’s Clarke. She does however, let her know that she’s willing to speak. “Hello, Clarke,” she says and after a few moments hesitation, the lights come on.

“Hi,” is the simple response. Lexa sits up, situating herself so she’s sitting with her back against the headboard, facing toward Clarke, who looks as if she doesn’t know what to do. “How are you?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs. She figures there’s not really a point in lying to her.

“I’ve been better,” Lexa says and that makes Clarke smile. She takes a step forward.

“You don’t have to answer but….what happened?” Clarke asks and Lexa wants to deny that anything was ever wrong. Go back to the way things had been just over 24 hours ago. But it’s not worth it. She’s exhausted. She’s tired of pretending that she’s fine when she’s anything but.

“I lost someone quite close to me two years ago. My girlfriend, Costia. She was quite sick and her death sudden. It’s been a struggle to get over,” Lexa explains and perhaps that’s understating it but she doesn’t want Clarke to think she’s this unstable person. Though the crying in the laundromat and inability to get out of bed today may have done just that already. “Actually, I haven’t quite been able to get over it at all,” Lexa admits and she tries her best to ignore the voice in her head that’s telling her that admitting this to Clarke is simply exposing her weakness. Clarke’s eyes are wide and she takes a deep breath.

“Lexa, I’m so sorry,” she starts and Lexa nods. Clarke moves to sit on the bed next to her. “How long were you together?” She asks.

“Since we were 13. Six years,” Lexa answers. Clarke puts a hand on Lexa’s knee.

“That’s awful. Nobody should die that young and nobody should lose someone that they love like that,” Clarke says with total honesty.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa replies and Clarke looks likes there’s something she wants to say but instead she stays quiet. She comes closer to her though and leans against the headboard next to her. They stay quiet.

As they sit there in silence, Clarke’s hand still on her thigh, Lexa thinks that maybe it’s time she learn to let Costia go. For her own sake. She’d never be able to unlove her but she could move forward.

Especially if she had Clarke.

-

She should have told her about Finn.

She wanted to, she was  _ going  _ to but then she looked at her and the words got stuck in her throat. She convinced herself it’s because this wasn’t about her. This was about Lexa and her girlfriend. Not about her.

(But really it’s the words that Raven uttered that are echoing in her head. Telling her about Finn would have just created another bond and made it all that more difficult to leave when they get back home. She couldn’t have that.)

But loss isn’t easy. Grief isn’t easy. Moving on isn’t easy.

It’s the hardest fucking thing she’s ever had to do. And it still hurts, it still aches, and she suspects that it always will. Just because it’s dulled doesn’t mean it disappears. It just becomes more bearable. And if anyone can help Lexa learn that, it’s her.

But she’s goddamn terrified.

Finn is a chamber of her heart that she keeps locked. It’s a place she doesn’t let anybody into, herself included most days. She keeps a great many skeletons locked in there with him and she’s nowhere near ready to share, with anybody, the darkness that lives in that part of her.

And maybe it’s selfish but after years of giving up part after part of herself to someone who abused it, she figured that sometimes, she deserved to be selfish.

They were finally checking out of the motel, Lexa feeling quite guilty that Clarke ended up paying for two nights. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. At this point, I figured I owed you,” Clarke brushes it off but she can see the guilty look in Lexa’s eyes. “You can buy me something nice later,” she continues and that finally makes Lexa smile.

After another good nights rest and an actual meal, she seems better. Not liable to shut down on her again at the very least. She takes the passenger seat and swings her feet up onto the dashboard. “I never did thank you for finishing my laundry,” she says as she sniffs at the strap of the tank top she’s wearing. Clarke shrugs.

“Not a big deal. I’d rather you not stink up my car so it was a good arrangement for both of us,” Clarke jokes and Lexa glares at her with less than no intensity.

“Where are we headed?” Lexa asks and Clarke revs up the engine.

“Colorado Springs. I have a friend there who knows all the best dispensaries,” Clarke replies and Lexa’s forehead wrinkles for a moment, as if she was trying to remember something and then the recognition lights up her eyes.

“Right,” she says with a nod and then turns her attention back to her phone.

“We’re not too far so it shouldn’t take us long,” Clarke says and she hopes it doesn’t because there’s some place she wants to go.

-

She’s embarrassed.

Everything that had happened the past two days was absolutely humiliating.

She’d shown Clarke all of her weaknesses. All of the points where she could touch her and break her. All of the places that she hurts.

The majority of her hates that she did it. She’d never let anyone in that far. Not in years. She hadn’t let anybody see her cry since Costia.

And now Clarke had seen it all.

She’d seen her at her worst point. Any mask of toughness has been completely replaced the total vulnerability she’s displayed in the past few days.

And still there’s a small part of her that’s grateful. Grateful to not have a mask up. To be able to  _ feel  _ things for just a moment and not be scared of what they mean.

But of course, it’s always head over heart. That’s the way it has to be. It’s how you survive in this world. She’s learned that the hard way. She’s got to put the past two days behind her and do her best to pretend that they never happened.

She’s quiet on the drive to Colorado Springs, though not  _ too  _ quiet so as not to worry Clarke. Mostly, she’s watching vines of huskies. They’ve always been known to cheer her up.

She never had pets growing up, her parents had neither the time nor the patience for an animal. Hell, they barely had time for her. But her neighbors had dogs and when she was younger, she would often sneak into their backyard and play with them. As she got older, sneaking out got harder and it was less than worth it to do it to pet some dogs.

But maybe, in a few years, once she’s settled. She’d get a husky. She’d name them Balto because she’d always loved that movie as kid. And maybe she’d still be alone but at least she’d have a warm dog.

Lexa’s not very familiar with the Colorado area, so as Clarke drives around, she keeps her eyes on her phone and doesn’t ask any questions.

They pull into a parking lot shortly after 2pm and Clarke has a satisfied smile on her face. “What?” Lexa asks, relatively suspiciously because she knows Clarke’s smiles by now and this is one she hasn’t seen before. Clarke shakes her head.

“Nothing, get out,” Clarke replies and Lexa just shrugs and does as she’s told. They’re in a large parking lot, one that doesn’t look anywhere close to the city.

“This doesn’t look like a marijuana dispensary,” Lexa comments. Clarke laughs from her side.

“It’s not. I wanted to make a pitstop first,” and she steps out in front of Lexa and there’s something in her eyes that Lexa can’t pinpoint. It’s not pity but it sure looks close.

“I know you’ve had a rough couple of days,” Clarke starts and Lexa opens her mouth to interrupt but Clarke shakes her head, “and I know it’s not your style to be vulnerable. But I’m your friend,” and she reaches out and grabs Lexa’s hand then, “and I care about you. I’m here if you want to talk, when you’re ready, but for now I think we should just feed some giraffes, okay?” Clarke finishes and Lexa finds herself feeling incredibly grateful for her. She squeezes her hand.

“That sounds perfect.”

-

It’s probably cheesy.

Okay, it’s _ definitely  _ cheesy.

But her Dad had always taken her to the zoo to feed the giraffes when she was having a bad day and when she’d heard that the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo was pretty notorious for their giraffe feedings, well, she knew she had to do it.

It felt like the least she could do. An apology for keeping secrets, though she knows that rationally, she has nothing to apologize for.

Lexa lights up like a small child the moment they’re inside the zoo. 

If Clarke thought she’d seen her excited when they were in the museum, it had nothing on this.

She’s bouncing from exhibit to exhibit, dragging Clarke along behind her.

She makes sure that when they approach the Australia Walkabout they purchase feeding sticks for the budgies. A small blue parakeet lands on her hand and Clarke watches her eyes go soft. She uses her free hand to ruffle the feathers beneath the birds chin. It chirps in response and Lexa smiles softly.

Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever seen Lexa more at peace then she is with the animals.

It’s heartwarming, endearing, and all sorts of positive things all at the same time.

And Clarke is sure that once they finally get to feed the giraffes, Lexa might actually pee her pants. She’s excited in her very, Lexa way, in that she’s twisting her fingers and her eyes keep flitting towards the tall creatures that they keep creeping closer and closer to.

Her smile is the brightest she’s ever seen it when the giraffe begins eating out of her hand. Clarke’s fairly certain she sees the giraffe smile at her. Or maybe that’s just an illusion from the extreme heat.

They settle down with two cones of chocolate ice cream after that. Lexa has a soft smile on her face that hasn’t left since they left the giraffes. She looks over at Clarke. “Thank you, Clarke,” she says and Clarke doesn’t look at her when she replies,

“For what?”

“For all of this. I wasted a day of your trip. You didn’t need to spend another trying to cheer me up,” she says and Clarke shakes her head.

“My Dad used to do this with me when I’d had a bad day or two. Just the two of us, we’d go to the zoo and feed the giraffes and get ice cream. Kind of a tradition. He died when I was 15,” she says calmly. “And I had a lot of bad days after that. For awhile I couldn’t go without him. I didn’t think it would feel the same. Then one day, I went. I fed the giraffes. I had some ice cream. Alone. It wasn’t the same but it was something. Something of his,  _ ours _ , that I got to hold onto while I let everything else go,” Clarke explains. It isn’t the Finn story, that she’s still not ready to tell, but this one she is.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa says while looking down at her lap.

“It’s fine,” Clarke says with a shrug and she means it. Maybe she’s just some sort of expert at mourning people but it’s something she’s grown quite accustomed to. “What I’m trying to is, you can hang onto something like it’s your lifeline, without holding onto everything. Because then you’re going to be stuck,” CLarke continues and she’d said she’d wait for Lexa to be ready but this needed to be said. “You don’t deserve to be stuck. You deserve to have a life. And I think she would think so too,” and she watches Lexa flinch as she says that. She’s quiet for a moment.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. Clarke moves closer to her. She finds that her heart beat is accelerating just slightly and she tries to calm it down but she can’t manage it.

“I’m here for you,” she whispers. Her hand rests on the plastic picnic table bench, just inches from Lexa’s pinky. Lexa is staring up at the bright sun, which is slowly lowering down toward the horizon.

“I know,” Lexa replies, looping her pinky over hers. They stay like that, pinkies intertwined, and watch the sunset.


	6. absentmindedly making me want you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the the rating in this chapter, we definitely live up to it. warning for marijuana usage!

They have to find a hotel and Clarke doesn’t put up a fight when Lexa decides to splurge on an actual hotel room, with a king sized bed and a jetted tub.

She runs the bath the moment she gets into the room. Lexa is watching a re-run of Jeopardy. She can hear her shouting out answers at the television as she settles into the tub and lets the jets relax her muscles.

Traveling is starting to tire her out. They’ve been on the road for almost ten days and she misses sleeping in a bed that was her own every night. Bouncing from motel, to motel, to the occasional hotel, does nothing to bring her the feeling of ‘home’.

(But Lexa - she might).

Clarke brings a handful of bubbles out of the water and she lightly blows on them, watching them float off of her hand and back down to the water. She’s about to repeat the action when the door to the bathroom pushes open. Lexa is rubbing at her eyes, yawning. She looks at Clarke. For a moment, she looks as if she’s contemplating something, the mental fight quite clear in her eyes. Then she walks toward the bathtub. She sits on the edge of it, dipping her fingers in the water. She pulls them out almost instantly, the temperature of the water taking her by surprise. Her brow is furrowed. “Why is it scalding?” She asks and Clarke smiles.

“I like my baths hot. Burns off the day,” Clarke replies, leaning her head back against the porcelain of the tub. Lexa’s cheeks flush red. She doesn’t say anything and Clarke has to wonder why exactly she’s sitting on the ledge of the bathtub when there’s certainly more comfortable places for her to be. “Did you want something?” Clarke asks and Lexa bites her lip.

“Jeopardy finished and I was bored. You were in here,” Lexa replies with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I just want to,” she pauses. Then she shakes her head. “Nevermind,” she mutters and she moves to stand up. Clarke’s hand darts out of the water so fast, quite a bit of water spills out over the edge of the tub. She grabs Lexa’s wrist.

“Stay,” Clarke says and Lexa is looking down at the hand that grips her wrist. Then slowly, she nods. She sits back down on the edge of the tub. She turns her body and then asks,

“Do you mind?” Lexa asks and Clarke thinks for a moment she’s asking to get in with her. She nods. Lexa smiles as she moves her feet over the edge and submerges them in the water. They hit Clarke’s calf and Clarke swears Lexa’s cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red. The bubbles are still covering most of her, which she suspects is why Lexa stayed. Lexa rotates her leg, creating ripples in the water. “Thank you again for today, Clarke,” Lexa says, looking down at the water. “It meant more to me than I can properly express,” she looks up and fixes Clarke with an intense stare. She can’t keep it for long, the strength rustling up something inside her that she's still quite unwilling to put a name to.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Clarke replies, sinking lower into the water. Lexa is still staring, her eyes soft and wide.

“I did,” she says back and her voice sounds far away. They quiet for a few moments, Clarke enjoying the heat of the water on her skin. Soon though, Lexa speaks again. “What do you plan on doing once we get home?” Lexa asks and Clarke sighs.

Home. What a funny concept.

It's a good question.

One she’s not entirely sure she has the answer to. She doesn’t want to go back to the pitying stares of her Mother, though she knows she has to. It’s hard for her to admit but she knows that if there’s one person who understands everything that's happened in this last year, it’s her Mother.

But she hasn’t trusted her Mother with anything in years. Not since she signed the paper that effectively ended her Father’s life. To pull the plug on life support. She killed him and she killed their relationship too.

Most of the reason she’d chosen California for college was to be as far away from her Mother as would allow. She rarely called, she rarely went back.

But this time she had to.

The school was naming a scholarship in her Father’s name and dedicating the football stadium after him. He had, after all, coached the team to three state titles while he taught there. It had taken a little while to get the funding squared away but they finally managed and they were doing it. Midway through the summer they were going to unveil the new name and announce the first winner of the Jake Griffin memorial scholarship.

She had to be there.

Her Mother had practically begged her to come home for the summer. Ever since Finn died, she’d been asking Clarke to come home for every holiday. And Clarke was tired of fighting her. She was tired of resisting when her Mother tried to pull her closer. Maybe it was just time to relent. To stop letting the bitterness fuel her. It has, after all, been six years. 

But there’s still part of her that resents her. A part of her that thinks that if she’d waited just a little while longer, he could have recovered. That he would have pulled through and he would still be here. He would have been able to see her graduate. He would have been able to kiss her forehead when they dropped her off at college. He’d be able to walk her down the aisle at her wedding someday. But she’d chosen to shut off life support.

And Clarke can’t forgive her for that.

So Clarke shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take a nap?” she replies and it’s a brush off, she knows that, but there’s still so much of her that’s terrified to tell anybody too much about her Dad. It’s a vulnerability she’s not ready to expose. She’s barely spoken to Raven about it and she’s her best fucking friend. Besides, if she told Lexa, it’d be another string to connect them. An attachment she can’t really afford. “What about you?” She asks, eager to get the attention off of her. Lexa shrugs. She doesn’t answer. 

“I really did want to go to Siberia,” she says after a few moments of silence. Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Lexa, it’s the wintery desert. What’s there?” Clarke questions. Lexa’s gaze remains steady on the water below her. The bubbles are starting to disperse and Clarke knows there’s only so long her body can remain covered. She wonders if Lexa will stay anyway.

“It’s less what  _ is  _ there and more of what isn’t,” Lexa says and then Clarke understands.

It’s a break. It’s place where everything that happened here didn’t exist.

“Why can’t you just go alone?” Clarke asks and Lexa laughs. It’s bitter and hollow.

“I can’t. Not now that she’s expecting me,” Lexa replies and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who the she in question was. Clarke knew that there had to be a reason Lexa was so intent on screening her Mother’s calls.

“What’s she like?” Clarke has to ask and Lexa’s jaw tenses. Clarke wonders if perhaps she pushed too far. That the wounds from yesterday had not yet closed and Clarke was just pouring salt onto them. But then her face softens.

“It’s hard to explain,” she starts. “She always took a more hands off approach to Motherhood. I was more attached to the nannies than I was to her,” she pauses and looks up at Clarke, her eyes wide and sad. “She’s the one person who was supposed to love me unequivocally and without reason. I think perhaps she missed that page of the book,” Lexa says softly. There’s no bitterness in her tone. Just resignation. Clarke sits up then, carefully so as not to expose herself. She brings her knees up and pushes her chest against them. Her hands are free and she grabs Lexa’s with one of them. She laces their fingers. Lexa’s eyes fix on their intertwined hands.

“I don’t think family needs be what you’re born into. I think you can choose people and build a life with them,” Clarke explains. Lexa’s grip is loose and it tightens only momentarily.

“You’re right,” she pauses, inhaling. “But I don’t think that means you stop wishing for the one you were born into to love you the right way,” she stops and her hand clenches in Clarke’s. Clarke brings their hands to her lips and kisses the back of Lexa’s knuckles gently. Lexa looks up at her then, her eyes wide, soft, and filled with something that Clarke can’t, or won’t, name. “You’re special, Clarke,” she murmurs and Clarke feels a turning in her stomach. Clarke is quiet and Lexa sighs. “The bubbles are popping,” she says and it’s more to herself than to Clarke. She unlinks their hands and swings her legs out of the tub. “I’m going to watch Animal Planet. I think Too Cute is on,” Lexa says as she stands. She looks down at Clarke, that same contemplative look in her eyes she had when she walked in overtaking her. After a moment, she leans down. Her hand grips the back of Clarke’s neck as she brings their mouths together in a kiss. Lexa pulls back and for a moment, Clarke is breathless. “Have a good bath, Clarke,” she says before she turns around and leaves the bathroom.

She stares down at the water that’s quickly becoming transparent, and tries not to focus on the way her lips tingle or the way her stomach swoops when she brings her fingers up to touch them.

Well that’s new.

-

Lexa’s heart doesn’t calm for at least five full minutes after she leaves the bathroom.

She doesn’t know why - that kiss was no different than the ones that they’d shared previously. Except. It was. It felt like more. Maybe it was simply a result of the conversation that they’d just had but Lexa’s head is reeling. Her lips tingle and she thinks that maybe she’s never been kissed so powerfully in her life. It’s cruel, she thinks, the way this world seems so intent on handing her people who are temporary. No matter what, she doesn’t get to keep Clarke.

And it makes knowing that she wants to hurt all the more.

She sits on the edge of the bed, in the same pair of peach pajamas she’d worn that first night, and wonders how they got here (well, not  _ here  _ to this hotel because that’s self-explanatory, but rather how, in the span of ten days, she’d fallen so hard for Clarke). She thinks it was the zoo that was the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Nobody had ever done something like that for her.

And it filled her heart and made her think that she could get used to this. She could get used to Clarke linking pinkies with her and telling her anecdotes about her childhood. She could get used to the heavy, lidded stare Clarke gives her when she’s trying not to reveal too much. She could. And she wants to.

But her heart’s a muddled mess. It’s mangled and some parts of it are torn. She’s used goods now and she’s not sure she wants to hand Clarke the task of untangling her heartstrings. 

And this is temporary anyway. Lexa would be foolish to think that once they get to D.C., they’ll stay in touch. She’s not that optimistic. Not when the past has done everything in its power to beat it out of her.

(But she wants so desperately to hope - even if it’s foolish).

Clarke comes out of the bathroom in a towel and Lexa doesn’t bother to avert her eyes. Not this time. It’s quite reminiscent of that first night - only this time Lexa is allowed to look. And she very much enjoys what she sees. The water is dripping down her shoulders, into her collar bone, from the ends of her hair and Lexa watches the droplets fall into the top of the towel. Her imagination does a lot for thinking about where it goes next.

When her eyes finally manage to leave Clarke’s chest, they return to her eyes. There’s mirth in them and a smirk on her lips. Making a split second decision, she opts to keep her eyes connected to Clarke’s. She won’t look down. Not this time. She’s sure the hunger, or perhaps more appropriately the thirst, is likely visible in her eyes. 

And hey, who can really blame her? Clarke’s hot. And she’s here, in this hotel room, with Lexa, naked underneath that towel.

And Lexa fucking wants her.

She thinks that after Clarke has finished grabbing her clothes from her open suitcase, she’ll retreat into the bathroom. She usually does, and Lexa knows that’s for her comfortability.

But not this time. She turns her back to Lexa and drops the towel. Her bare back is exposed, all the way from the curve of her shoulders to the slope of her ass to the heel of her foot. Lexa’s sure her jaw drops at the exact same speed of Clarke’s towel. She dresses slowly and Lexa can’t take her eyes off of her body, though she knows she should because she’s seeing parts of Clarke she’d only ever pictured in her imagination. She swallows, attempting to slick her now dry throat, when Clarke bends over to pull a pair of very lacy underwear up her legs.

Her arms reach up then as she pulls a soft t shirt on over her head and Lexa feels throbbing between her legs. Fuck. As if she didn’t already want Clarke bad enough. Now she had a peek of what was underneath. And it was good. 

Clarke finally turns around then, her face settled into a large smirk and Lexa feels her cheeks flush. She walks towards the bed and Lexa can’t take her eyes off of Clarke’s legs. She walks around to the other side, where the sheets are thrown down and she sits. She shifts the pillow so it functions as a rest for her back and leans against it. She folds her hands and puts them behind her head and raises an eyebrow. “What?” She asks, faux innocence in her voice that’s quite clearly meant to tease her. Quickly, and without much thought, Lexa scoots herself backwards until she’s at Clarke’s side. Then, swiftly, she turns herself and slings a leg over Clarke’s thighs. Clarke’s eyes widen as Lexa settles onto her lap. She brings her hands up to rest on Clarke’s shoulders.

“I want to say a proper thank you,” Lexa whispers and then she’s leaning down and crashing her lips against Clarke’s. Clarke’s arms find their way to Lexa’s waist and she grips tightly. Lexa’s own move up, one resting on Clarke’s cheek, the other in her hair.

Clarke’s mouth is warm and inviting. Lexa’s tongue traces her bottom lip and for one fleeting moment, she has control. Then Clarke’s tongue is pushing against hers and Lexa’s never been the sort to give in, to relent control, but she can’t help it this time. She lets Clarke take the lead.

Clarke’s hands are the the bottom of her tank top. She feels her fingers brushing against her bare skin and for a moment, she freezes. She feels the urge to push back, to straighten her shirt and cross her arms over her chest. But then Clarke pulls back, pupils blown wide with desire, desire for  _ her _ , and she asks, “What’s wrong?” And suddenly, Lexa can’t think of anything. She shakes her head and moves to connect their mouths again.

They’ve kissed before but this is different. This isn’t just fleeting, passing moments where their mouths connect. This is kissing with intent. Lexa wants this to go somewhere and judging by the way Clarke’s hands are moving underneath the silk of her pajamas, she does too.

Lexa swears she’s never felt hands so soft against her skin. Clarke’s grip is light and she moves her fingers at an achingly slow pace up Lexa’s sides. She ghosts close to the underside of Lexa’s breast but she never quites get there. Lexa wishes that she would.

The throbbing her legs has far from calmed down, in fact Lexa would say it’s just gotten worse. She knows she’s wet. She can feel herself soaking the underwear she’s wearing. Her clit is throbbing and she’s never been quite so turned on by  _ just  _  making out with someone in her life.

Lexa shifts herself so she’s settled on only one of Clarke’s thighs, pushing her own against Clarke. She feels Clarke moan into her mouth and a wave of self-satisfaction flows through her. She keeps the pressure there but Clarke responds in kind. Lexa shudders, pleasure traveling the length of her spine. Clarke’s fingers grip tightly at the skin on her hips and it feels as if she’s pushing Lexa’s hips down against her own. Following the lead of Clarke’s hands, Lexa grinds her hips down against Clarke’s thighs. The friction the movement created sends another wave of pleasure over her and she shivers. She’s never been someone who’s loud when receiving pleasure, but there’s a noise caught in her throat and she thinks that if Clarke’s hands move any further upward, it’s bound to come out.

Clarke’s lips pull away from Lexa’s and they begin to travel down Lexa’s jaw, then to her neck. She feels Clarke take the skin there between her lips and Lexa sighs. Lexa’s hands are pushing against the headboard now, one arm on either side of Clarke’s head. Her own is dipped and tilted to the side to give Clarke more space to kiss. Her hips have started to grind against Clarke’s though of their own volition.

Clarke is kissing her again and one of her hands has fallen from the headboard and back into Clarke’s hair. She feels the strap of her pajamas falling down but she can’t be bothered to fix it. Clarke’s tracing kissing down the front of her throat now and Lexa tosses her head back, her hair falling down her back. Clarke’s mouth makes its way down her throat and across her chest.

Then it hits the top of her breast and Clarke pauses. She looks up at Lexa through hooded eyes and Lexa can’t speak, not right now, so she nods.

She wants Clarke to touch her. There and everywhere else.

Quickly, Lexa slides her arm out of the strap. The fabric falls away from her chest, leaving her breast bare and exposed. Clarke kisses the skin around her nipple and Lexa’s back arches into Clarke.

Clarke’s arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close, and Lexa’s head is thrown back as Clarke finally takes her nipple between her lips. Her tongue swirls around it and she’s always been sensitive there but she’s never felt jolts of pleasure flow through her like this.

Her hips have picked up speed now, her body dying for any sort of friction to relieve the ache between her legs. She’s soaked and as she grinds against the bare skin of Clarke’s thigh, she can feel herself getting close. Thinking quickly, she slides her other arm out of the strap and lets it fall to her side. Her shirt pools at her hips and Clarke takes the hint and moves from one breast to the other. Clarke’s grip tightens on her back and her hips continue to move quickly against her thigh.

She’s just taken Lexa’s right nipple in her mouth when Lexa feels the familiar tightening in her stomach. Lexa grips the back of Clarke’s head, gripping hair between her fingers as she grinds hard against Clarke’s thigh. Once. Twice. Three times. She comes with a quiet moan and her head thrown back. Clarke pulls her mouth off of Lexa’s nipple and brings their lips together in a soft kiss. There’s no rush in this one. Lexa pulls back, her head falling into the crook of Clarke’s neck. She’s still on her lap and she feels her cheeks flush then. “I’ve never made a girl come so fast in my life,” Clarke whispers into her ear, slightly out of breath. Lexa can her the smile in her voice. She laughs, kissing the base of Clarke’s neck gently. Clarke fingers are dragging lightly along the curves of her sides. It feels good.

“Do you need to?” Lexa asks then, remembering that there was in fact another person involved. Lexa brings her head back up, making eye contact. Clarke shakes her head.

“It takes more time for me to get there,” she explains. “I don’t get myself off too often because of how long it takes. Trust me, you’d be down there for an hour,” Clarke says and Lexa shrugs.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she replies and it’s the truth. She’d be more than happy to spend an hour between Clarke’s legs, learning her taste, her sounds, her movements. Lexa notices her pupils dilate.

“Noted,” she says with a smirk. She kisses the skin underneath Lexa’s chin then.

“Go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow,” she says and it’s punctuated by a long yawn. Lexa moves off of Clarke’s lap. Clarke lowers herself so she’s laying down and Lexa rests her head on her shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?” Lexa murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I’ll take a raincheck,” Clarke replies and it’s the last thing Lexa hears before she falls asleep.

-

She wakes up before Lexa the next morning.

Lexa is curled up against her side, her arm thrown over Clarke’s stomach, an attempt to keep her close. She sleeps like a koala, Clarke’s come to notice. She grabs onto her and doesn’t let go until she wakes. It’s rather endearing. Clarke rests her head on her propped up elbow and Lexa shifts, curling further into her chest. Clarke knows it’s probably creepy, okay she  _ knows  _ it’s creepy, she’s read the Twilight criticisms, but there’s an innocence and peacefulness on Lexa’s face while she sleeps that’s not there when she’s awake. She looks quite childlike with her face relaxed and her eyes closed. Clarke supposes that’s because there’s no way to see the way her eyes look so….aged. As if those eyes have seen a thousand lives, each of them reflected in the green of her irises.

She’s beautiful.

And she’s more than that. She’s captivating and stunning and intriguing. 

Her soul is as wildly beautiful as her face.

Clarke is looking down at her, a soft smile on her face. Lexa’s eyes flutter open then and Clarke thinks that she should look away but she can’t. A smile is on her face when her eyes fully open. She looks up at her through her eyelashes. “Good morning,” she murmurs and Clarke’s smile grows. Lexa tilts her head to the side, her hair falling off of her shoulder and exposing her neck. There, Clarke sees three dark bruises. Hickeys. She brings her hand up to trace over them.

“These were accidental,” she whispers. Lexa’s brow furrows and she tries to look down, her chin hitting her chest. She doesn’t manage to get the hickeys in her line of view. She frowns.

“You gave me hickeys,” she says, her voice still scratchy with sleep. Clarke smirks.

“I told you they were accidental,” she whispers and Lexa’s smile grows. Her hand, which had been resting on Clarke’s waist while they slept, tightens its grip and she pulls herself closer. She leans her head up and kisses Clarke lightly.

“I don’t have any concealer,” Lexa murmurs against her mouth and Clarke laughs. She pulls back and again, brings her fingers to the bruises on Lexa’s neck. She touches them gently.

“Good. I like how they look on you,” she responds and Lexa bites her lip. A silence falls between them then and Clarke can’t quite figure out why she said it. The words slipped past her filter and out in the open. Lexa is looking anywhere but her eyes and Clarke wishes she could take it back. She can’t though but she does the next best thing: changes the subject.

“Are you going to shower?” She asks and Lexa sighs. She pushes her head against Clarke’s chest, nodding, her hair tickling Clarke’s skin.

“What time do you want to leave for the dispensary?” Lexa asks, still not looking up.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mutters back and Clarke feels a featherlight kiss against her clavicle.

“Does that mean we can stay in bed a little bit longer?” Lexa asks, peeking up at her through her eyelashes. Clarke laughs and she puts her arm around Lexa’s waist to pull her in closer to her.

“Yeah,” she pauses, “we can stay in bed a little longer,” she repeats, kissing the top of Lexa’s head.

And she wonders then how this thing between them started to feel like domesticity.

And she wonders even more why it doesn’t bother her.

-

Lexa doesn’t know what she expects out of a marijuana dispensary. Maybe she’d imagined it to be a little more shady, her mind still processing the previous illegality first. But the shop is quite quaint, the neon sign in the shape of a green marijuana leaf illuminates the storefront, making it quite clear to passer-bys exactly what this place is.

When they first arrive, their ID’s are checked. Clarke hands hers over smoothly and her ID is verified quite quickly. Lexa, however, fidgets as she hands hers over. She’s 21 and her ID is real but there’s always this nagging part of her brain that thinks nobody’s going to believe her. The person checking their ID’s is looking at her strangely but Clarke puts a hand on her arm and she stops moving. With a nod of his head, the man stands and swipes a card to let them into the main part of the shop.

It’s very neat. Everything is organized and in display cases and Lexa thinks she really, really underestimated to sort of establishment she would be walking into. This was a legitimate business. It wasn’t shady or strange. It operated like any other shop she’d ever walked into. In fact, it reminded her quite a bit of going into a jewelry store. Clarke is watching her, she can feel her eyes on her face, and she lets out a deep breath. “It’s….quaint,” Lexa says and Clarke chuckles.

“I’m going to look around and see what they’ve got. If you change your mind about buying something….” Clarke trails off and Lexa raises an eyebrow. She highly doubts it.

Clarke breaks away from her then, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the shop. It’s busy and Lexa supposes she isn’t at all surprised. There are people walking around her, some even bumping into her, and she figures that she should likely get out of the way of traffic. She moves to the side, a colorful glass blown pipe catching her attention. She puts her hands on the glass, leaning forward to examine it more. It’s a beautiful piece on its own. Lexa can’t even imagine the time and effort that must have gone into it. She glances at the plate sitting next to it. $350. It’s not  _ terribly  _ priced. But she’d have no real use for it. From above her a voice says, “One of our newest ROOR products. Are you interested?” And Lexa’s head shoots up. In front of her is a pretty girl who wears a nametag, which reads Annalise, and an apron. Her dreadlocks are tied up in a bun on the top of her head and her smile is quite sweet. Lexa shakes her head.

“No. I don’t smoke,” she says softly, though her eyes have drifted back down to the pipe. Annalise leans down, resting her forearms on the glass.

“It’s a pretty piece of art though, isn’t it?” She comments and Lexa nods. “So you don’t smoke. What are you here for then? Edibles? Admire the artwork?” She continues and her tone is light and for some reason, puts Lexa at ease.

“I’m here with,” she pauses then. How does she describe Clarke? She swallows. “A friend,” she settles on. Because to her knowledge, they’re nothing more, as much as it aches in her heart when she thinks about it. Annalise smiles. She tilts her head to the side and it feels like maybe she’s studying her.

“Have you ever tried it?” She asks. Lexa brings her bottom lip between her teeth. She shakes her head. Annalise chuckles. “Come here, let me show you some stuff,” she says and walks around the counter so she’s standing on the same side as Lexa. She grabs her by the elbow and waits for Lexa to start walking along with her. She does. They navigate the crowd and Lexa can’t help it - she looks for Clarke. She thinks she spots her blonde hair on the other side of the shop but she can’t be certain. They finally stop in front of a display that looks like it’s just full of baked goods. Annalise still hasn’t let go of her arm. She wonders if she’s this friendly with all of her customers because it is quite good customer service. “No pressure if you’re really not interested but it looks like your friend is loading up so I don’t think it would hurt if you had something for yourself,” Annalise says, glancing to her left and Lexa follows her gaze. Across the shop, Clarke is standing very close to a tattooed man that’s touching her shoulder in a way that’s certainly less than professional. Lexa’s nostrils flare as she watches Clarke throw her head back in laughter at something he says.

She’s flirting.

And it makes Lexa feel sick to her stomach.

She can’t watch it. She turns her head back to Annalise who is looking at her with something like pity in her eyes. Lexa takes a deep breath. “Tell me about these,” she asks, determined to get the mental image of Clarke and that man out of her head. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get some marijuana in her system. Her neck is tense and she knows the veins there are protruding. Annalise smiles at her and she pushes the picture of Clarke away.

“If you’ve never had any cannabis before, I think edibles aren’t a bad place to start. You don’t have to smoke anything, which is where a lot of the hesitancy for a first high comes in,” Annalise begins and Lexa tries her best to focus on what she’s saying but it’s hard when she knows that Clarke is merely a few feet away, flirting with someone that isn’t her. There’s tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She wills them to go away because she won’t do this. She won’t cry over Clarke Griffin in the middle of a marijuana dispensary in this state that she’s unfamiliar with. She fucking won’t. She sniffles and straightens her back. She and Clarke aren’t anything. She can flirt with whomever she chooses and Lexa doesn’t have any right to be upset about it. She turns attention back to Annalise, who is still explaining something and Lexa tunes back into her, “So I think this would be worth your while,” she finishes looking at Lexa expectantly. While she was unaware of what she had just finished saying, she has decided that she’s not leaving this shop empty handed. So she just nods and looks Annalise in the eye as she replies,

“I think you’re right.”

And perhaps it’s a weak and pathetic attempt to lash out at Clarke, or to potentially get a reaction from her, but she leans in close to Annalise then, putting a hand on her arm as she explains the different types of edibles they have available. It’s petty and she knows it. But her gut is twisting in a way that she’s unfamiliar with and the envy coursing through her veins is sure to be turning her green. If Clarke could flirt, she could too. She looks up at Annalise through her eyelashes, careful to make sure it looks as if she’s hanging off of her every word. When Annalise looks down, Lexa glances back over to Clarke. She’s leaning on the counter now, biting her lip and staring at the man in front of her with an expression on her face that Lexa has seen multiple times in the past week. Each time it’s been directed at her. She tears her eyes away, the turning in her stomach making her feel as if she’s going to vomit.

Yeah, maybe she has the right to be petty.

-

She’s not sure when she notices but she knows that when she does, she can’t stop paying attention.

There’s a girl at Lexa’s side and she’s giving her the biggest seduction eyes that Clarke has ever seen in her life. She’s got a hand on her arm and Lexa is standing  _ very  _ close to her. There’s a boiling beneath her skin and a desire to rip that girl’s fingers off one by one.

She’s distracted by it and Bryan, the man who’s been helping her, is trying to get her attention back. Her stare strays past him, her gaze fixed on Lexa. Her mind is willing her to pull away from this girl. Look over at her. Do anything to let her know she remembers she even exists. Once her bud is packaged, she makes a beeline for Lexa and this girl, who are still raptly engaged in conversation. Clarke hears the melodical sound of Lexa’s laugh from the distance and her stomach churns. She watches the girl put a hand on Lexa’s shoulder and squeeze and that’s  _ it _ . She’s just going to have to cut her hand off if she won’t keep it off of Lexa.

When Clarke is finally behind them, she clears her throat. Lexa’s head whips around instantly but there’s no welcoming smile on her face. There’s no warmth in her eyes and there’s a tightening in Clarke’s chest. “I didn’t think you were getting anything,” Clarke says, glancing down at the saran wrapped brownie that Lexa has in her hand. Lexa’s back is stiff and she doesn’t say anything. Instead, the girl laughs.

“Managed to sway her. I thought it might do her some good,” she says and she looks at Clarke expectantly but Clarke doesn’t react.

“Right,” she says flatly. She turns her attention back to Lexa, who is staring past the girl and very determinedly not at Clarke. Clarke stares at her and she knows that Lexa can feel the gaze. She doesn’t intend to look away until Lexa looks back.

It takes a moment but finally, her head turns and Lexa looks into her eyes. They’re weary and if Clarke is reading them right, a little bit angry. She doesn’t know why  _ she’s  _ angry. She’s the one flirting with this idiotic, try-hard pothead.

Clarke takes a step toward Lexa, who is still watching her with steady eyes, and reaches up toward her face. Lexa’s curls are wild against her shoulders and with a brief swipe of her hand, she brushes them backwards, exposing the three hickeys on her neck. She watches the sales girl’s eyes follow Clarke’s movements and feels quite satisfied when her eyes narrow. Lexa flinches away from her then but Clarke knows her job is complete. “Let me cash you out,” the girl mutters, looking away from them and starting to walk toward the register. Lexa fixes Clarke with a glare as she pushes past to follow her.

There’s a sour taste in her mouth and it stays until they’re walking back to the car together. Lexa is at least three feet in front of her and she’s walking remarkably fast, her long legs giving her an extreme advantage. Lexa opens the car door and gets in in silence. Clarke settles into the driver's seat but she doesn’t put the key into the ignition. Instead she waits. After more than a minute has passed and Clarke still has yet to turn the car on, Lexa finally looks at her. “Are you going to drive or not?” She asks coldly and Clarke shakes her head.

“Nope,” she states and Lexa straightens up. Her eyes narrow.

“Why not?” She shoots back and Clarke turns to her.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was?” Clarke says coldly and Lexa’s shoulders stiffen.

“I was purchasing a product from a shop. It’s exactly what it looked like,” Lexa replies evasively and Clarke’s nostrils flare.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” Clarke bitterly replies. 

“No, Clarke, I don't. I can't read your mind,” Lexa says and Clarke sighs.

“Yes, you do,” she enforces and she fixes Lexa with a stare that she hopes conveys the things she doesn’t want to say. Lexa stares at her for a moment, narrowed eyes feeling like they’re piercing through her.

“Say it, Clarke,” Lexa says. Clarke swallows. She doesn’t want to but the words are bubbling in her throat. “Say it,” Lexa urges again.

“You were flirting with her,” Clarke finally says, the words spilling out of her mouth like she has no control over them. A satisfied smirk settles on Lexa’s face.

“And?” Lexa asks again and Clarke doesn’t know what else she wants from her. She staring at her expectantly and Clarke’s fists clench in her lap. “You’re angry, Clarke, and I want to know why,” Lexa says in a tone that lets Clarke know she already knows why - she just wants her say it.

“You were flirting with her,” Clarke echoes, “and it pissed me off,” she says and as soon as the words are out there she wishes that she could take them back.

“Why did it piss you off, Clarke?” Lexa pushes and it’s starting to feel aggravating. She shakes her head. “You don’t get to be angry at me if you aren’t going to explain yourself. It’s petty and childish,” Lexa says and Clarke’s head whips up. Maybe if she just grabbed her and kissed her, she'd shut the fuck up. She turns to her, leaning over the middle of the car, and grabbing the back of Lexa’s neck to bring their faces within inches of each others. “Say it,” Lexa whispers and her eyes are soft. Clarke knows what she wants her to say. But she can’t. Not yet. She shakes her head. Lexa sighs and it’s resigned. But Clarke needs her to know. So she grips Lexa’s neck and pulls her close, bringing their lips together in a long kiss. She lets everything she’s not ready to say float to the tip of her tongue and she hopes that Lexa understands.

When they pull apart, Lexa’s eyes are hooded and her cheeks are flushed. Clarke smiles and settles back into her seat. She finally puts the key in the ignition and turns it, starting the car. “Put your seatbelt on. Safety first,” Clarke singsongs when Lexa still hasn’t moved from her position as Clarke starts to drive away.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet but not awkwardly so. Clarke tries to put the jealousy out of her mind but she can’t quite drop the image of the girl’s hand on Lexa’s arm. She wants to touch her all over, to mark her  _ more _ , so people know.

(Though what it is she wants them to know she’s unsure of because they aren’t together, that much is certain, but on some level, Lexa still feels like  _ hers _ ).

They’re nearing the hotel when she feels Lexa’s eyes on her. “Something on my face?” Clarke asks, trying to keep her tone light when the stare she feels is heavy. Lexa sighs but stays quiet for another moment.

“You were flirting too,” Lexa states and Clarke nearly slams on the brakes because  _ what _ ?

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks and she’s genuinely confused because she doubts the reception she’d given the girl in the shop could be construed as flirtatious.

“The man with the tattoos. You were flirting with him,” she clarifies and Clarke realizes then that Lexa must have….

Oh.

“No I wasn’t,” Clarke says with a laugh and Lexa looks at her with an incredulous expression.

“Well he was flirting with you,” Lexa replies petulantly and Clarke laughs.

“Lexa I wasn’t flirting with him,” Clarke says and she puts as much assurance in it as she can. Lexa still looks as if she doesn’t believe her. And Clarke thinks she understands why. Sometimes, more often than she’d like to admit, her friendliness is misconstrued as flirtatiousness. But it’s never mattered more to her than it does right now for someone to know that there's a difference. “I mean it,” Clarke says again and Lexa nods though she still looks unsure. There’s insecurity on her face and Clarke wishes she wasn’t driving so she could reach over and do something to remind Lexa that right now, the only person she wants to be flirting with is her.

“I believe you,” she finally says. And maybe it’s a stupid move but she can’t help herself.

“Did it bother you?” Clarke asks and Lexa turns her head toward the window. She’s silent for a long moment.

“Yes,” she admits and Clarke feels herself begin to smile.

“Why?” She asks the same questions Lexa had previously. Lexa laughs and shakes her head. “Say it,” Clarke urges and Lexa turns and fixes her with a meaningful stare. Clarke feels her throat go dry then. Maybe she’s not ready to hear the answer. 

“I will when you do,” she says softly and Clarke’s jaw tightens.

Well played.

-

Lexa’s not angry, not anymore, but she can’t quite look Clarke in the eye without a red flush flooding her cheeks. They’re back in the hotel room and Clarke has taken off her top layer. She’s in a tank top that’s falling low on her chest. Lexa can see the top of her pink bra and she’s trying not to stare.

(She’s doing a poor job).

Clarke is sitting cross legged across from her. She has a joint between her fingers and she twists it between them. It’s unlit and Lexa is staring at it. She has the brownie she’d bought sitting in front of her but she hasn’t taken a bite of it yet. “You should eat that. The high takes longer to set in with an edible,” Clarke says. Lexa tightens the grip on her own elbows. Her arms are crossed against her chest and she’s still quite hesitant.

She’s never been high before.

And she has no idea what she’s liable to do.

Inebriation has had...interesting effects on her during this trip to date.

But Lexa knows she wouldn’t regret anything this time.

Lexa finally lifts the brownie to her lips. She takes a small bite. She can’t stop her nose from wrinkling. Well it doesn’t taste exactly like a regular brownie but it’s not entirely terrible. Clarke is looking at her expectantly. “How does it taste?” She asks and Lexa shrugs.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,” she replies and Clarke laughs.

“I’m going to light this,” She says, lifting it to show Lexa. She nods. The window to their room is open, Clarke not willing to risk setting off any alarms. It may be legal to possess weed but many places still make it quite difficult to smoke it. But Clarke seems to be fairly certain that they won’t get caught. She can only hope. She’s not interested in being arrested. At least not tonight.

Clarke walks toward the window and Lexa watches the way her hips move. She’s wearing tight jean shorts and Lexa’s never been turned on solely by the appearance of someone but the way Clarke’s ass looks in those shorts? Well it’s causing tension in the pit of her stomach and a twinge between her legs. Clarke bends down, resting her elbows on the sill of the window, and Lexa has to take a deep breath to calm herself down. Deciding that as much as she enjoys the view of Clarke’s ass, it’s doing nothing but distracting her. She takes another bite of the brownie and moves off of the bed. She leans against the wall next to the window and watches as Clarke put her lips on the tip of the joint. Her cheeks hollow as she inhales. She lowers the joint from her mouth and exhales the smoke. Lexa’s never been one to think that smoking was attractive but Clarke looks nothing short of sensual with the smoke screening her face.

Clarke glances up at her then and she smirks, clearly noticing the wide eyed expression on Lexa’s face. “What?” She asks and Lexa shakes her head.

“The smoke suits you,” she replies simply and Clarke’s hand drops and she laughs shortly. “How do you do it without coughing?” Lexa asks, genuinely curious. Clarke chuckles.

“Practice,” she replies. Ah. That makes sense.

“What’s it like?” Lexa continues to ask questions and Clarke is looking at her with curious eyes.

“It burns at first. It feels like the inside of your lungs and your throat is being torched but it goes away. And then it just feels good,” Clarke explains and Lexa wonders if the high she’ll feel from the brownie will be different than Clarke’s from the joint, which Lexa is still staring at. “Do you want to try it?” Clarke asks, noticing that Lexa’s eyes haven’t left it. Lexa shakes her head.

“No,” she replies and Clarke shrugs. She takes another long drag.

The twinge between her legs is back again and Lexa doesn’t think she’s going to survive the night.

Two hours later, she realizes that she was quite right.

But mostly it doesn’t matter. She’s relaxed and she feels more mellow than she ever has in her life. Her vision is hazy but it’s in a good way. Clarke is laying down with her head resting on her stomach. Lexa is running her fingers through her hair (which really feels incredible) and it’s  _ nice _ .

“Your fingers feel incredible,” Clarke says softly and Lexa brings her fingers down to Clarke’s lips, tracing her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.

“Your face feels incredible,” Lexa mumbles back. They’re watching some animated show on the television and she’s never been quite interested in them, but right now it’s the most fascinating thing that she’s ever seen.

“I’m going to light the other joint,” Clarke mumbles and she doesn’t move. Lexa waits a few moments but still, Clarke’s head remains on her stomach and she stays still.

“You need to get up to do that, love,” Lexa says and the word slips out of her mouth before she even realized that she was  _ thinking  _ it. Lexa doesn’t find that she regrets it - at least not now. Clarke doesn’t react to the word but she does lift her head. She stretches herself across the bed, across Lexa’s lap, to get the joint that’s resting on the nightstand. Lexa finds her heartbeat quickening as Clarke hovers over her. She’s starting to think that maybe Clarke isn’t good for her health the way she makes her heart beat accelerate. She sits up then, next to Lexa, and she doesn’t bother to move to the window when she brings the joint to her lips and lights it. Again, Lexa is enraptured by just how  _ sexy  _ Clarke manages to look while doing this.

Clarke notices her watching and as she blows the smoke out of her mouth, she keeps eye contact with Lexa.

Fuck.

“I want to try,” Lexa says and Clarke looks up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“This?” Clarke asks and Lexa nods. She wonders if Clarke would find her as attractive as Lexa found her. She doubts it. “I have a better idea,” Clarke says, turning so she’s facing Lexa. “Sit up,” she says and Lexa does as she’s told. They sit face to face, their crossed legs connected at the knee. “Have you ever heard of shotgunning?” Clarke asks and Lexa thinks that she has but she doesn’t know that she has enough knowledge to be able to give a thorough explanation so she shrugs her shoulders. “All you need to do is inhale, okay?” Clarke says and it’s not detailed by any means but Lexa thinks that she can get this right. It can’t be too hard. Clarke is leaning in close to her and she’s sure her cheeks on fire because they always are when Clarke is this close to her.

She takes a hit from the joint and her cheeks puff out. She leans in, closer and closer, until their lips are almost touching. Lexa is tempted to close the gap and just  _ kiss  _ her because she’s so fucking close and Lexa can’t ever help herself around Clarke. Then, slowly, the smoke begins to leak out from between her lips and Lexa understands what Clarke meant when she said just inhale. So she separates her lips and inhales the smoke as it comes out of Clarke’s mouth.

It burns and Lexa tries not to, because she wants to be good at this on her first try, but she coughs. Loudly. Clarke reaches her arms underneath both of Lexa’s and rests her hands on the blades of her shoulders, lightly tapping them. She rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder and it’s a strange sort of embrace but one that Lexa leans into. “You’re okay,” Clarke whispers as Lexa struggles to get her breath back. After the wheezing has stopped, Clarke asks, “Do you want to try again?” And Lexa does. “I’ll do less this time,” Clarke assures and she pulls away from Lexa. She takes a drag and it’s short in comparison to her others. Clarke rests her forehead against Lexa’s and their heavy lidded eyes make contact as the smoke seeps from between Clarke’s lips again. It’s a more manageable amount this time and she doesn’t cough. She inhales until all of the smoke is gone and Clarke is smiling at her when the cloud between them disappears. “How was that?” She asks and Lexa grins. She brings her hands up to Clarke’s cheeks and pulls her face against hers. She presses their lips together and her mouth tastes like weed but still indescribably  _ Clarke _ . This kiss feels explosive. Maybe it’s the weed but she feels dizzy as she pulls away. Clarke grins and she takes another drag.

As the smoke flows from Clarke's relaxed jaw, Lexa feels quite grateful that Annalise had changed her mind - or she'd never get to see Clarke like this. And it's a picture she won't ever forget.

-

Clarke doesn’t think there’s anything hotter than Lexa, eyes closed and mouth open, waiting for the smoke to flow from her mouth. Her lips are red, kiss bruised and beautiful, and Clarke’s been paying particular attention to them for the past, well, she doesn’t even know how long.

The joint is nearly finished and while Clarke knows that she could offer it to Lexa to take a hit of her own, she prefers doing it this way. Lexa looks so fucking hot like this, she’d be stupid not to appreciate the view she has while she has it.

The hand that doesn’t hold the joint is on Lexa’s cheek as Clarke opens her mouth and lets the smoke fall from between her lips. She watches Lexa inhale and Clarke thinks that maybe she’s never been so turned on in her life. Lexa’s face feels amazing against her fingertips, she can only imagine what the rest of her would feel like.

As the last bit of smoke from the last hit of the joint leaves Clarke’s mouth and enters Lexa’s, Clarke leans in and closes the gap between them. They don’t bother pretending they want the kisses to be soft. Lexa’s mouth is open and inviting when Clarke presses her own to it. Clarke pulls Lexa’s bottom lip into her mouth, between her teeth, and she bites on it lightly. Lexa lets out a low growl and it might just be the hottest thing that Clarke’s ever heard in her life. Clarke releases her lip but brings her free hand to the other side of Lexa’s face so she’s gripping at her cheeks tightly. She wants to get closer.

Their kisses feel more intense, more brilliant, more world altering than they ever have before. If Lexa was the only person Clarke got to kiss for the rest of her life, she would be satisfied.

Clarke’s sweating and there’s too many layers between her skin and Lexa’s - and that’s all she wants right now. To be touching her skin. She pulls away from the kiss and brings her hands down to the edge of her shirt. She looks at Lexa, “I’m taking this off, is that alright?” Because she needs to know. And Lexa’s already pitch black pupils seem to darken when she nods. Clarke arches her back as she pulls the tank top over her head. She’s just in her bra and shorts now. Lexa is looking at her stomach with an expression that Clarke can only define as awe. She reaches out and lightly, touches her fingers to Clarke’s stomach. She drags her fingers from the band of her bra to the button of her jeans and Clarke shivers. Her touch is light and she wants more.

Her fingers are hovering near the band of her bra and Clarke smirks. “You can touch them,” she says and Lexa looks up at her with wide eyes and instead of moving her fingers to the tops of her breasts, she lowers her head. She kisses the skin once. Twice. And then she’s trailing a line of kisses along the tops of both of her breasts. Her skin feels as if someone was lighting firecrackers underneath it as Lexa’s lips move across. Lexa’s mouth dips to her cleavage and Clarke can’t help it, she arches her back into it.

Then Lexa is kissing up Clarke’s chest, across her neck, across her chin, her cheeks, her nose, and then finally, brings her mouth back to her lips. Clarke is panting when Lexa pulls away. “I want you to touch me,” she says through shallow breaths. Lexa is biting her lip but she nods. She leans in, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s back. With surprisingly swift fingers, Lexa unhooks her bra. Clarke shrugs it off, eager to feel Lexa’s touch against her bare breasts again.

This time, there’s no barrier between them and Lexa sits across from her, staring at her chest, with only lust in her eyes, and Clarke feels nothing but pure confidence. “I showed you mine, show me yours?” Clarke says teasingly and Lexa bites her lip. Clarke can see the hesitance in her eyes. She brings a hand up to Lexa’s chin, lifting it slightly to force her to look her in the eye. “You’re fucking beautiful,” Clarke whispers and she knows it’s not enough to fight whatever insecurity that Lexa has but she wants her to know. She’s beautiful. She’ll always be beautiful. Clarke is sure that she could be hiding gills underneath her shirt and Clarke would still think she was the hottest girl she had ever seen. She’s hesitant but Clarke watches something change in her eyes. There’s resolution there. Slowly, she peels off her shirt and tosses it to the side. Instantly, her arms are crossed over her stomach, attempting to prevent Clarke from seeing it.

Clarke leans in and kisses Lexa, first on the mouth, then on her shoulders. “You’re still fucking beautiful,” Clarke whispers and she knows that they’re just words but she has to do something. Nobody as ethereal as Lexa deserves to feel like anything less.

Clarke thinks that if she had all the time in the world, she would spend it worshipping her body. Letting her know that every inch of her is stunning.

Lexa isn’t looking at her. Her arms are still crossed over her stomach but the tension in her shoulders seems to have lessened. “Hey, come back to me,” Clarke whispers and Lexa finally looks back at her. Her eyes are wide and nervous. “Touch me,” Clarke says and it’s more of a demand than a request but it changes the expression in Lexa’s eyes.

It feels painstakingly slow, the pace at which Lexa moves to get close to her. She throws her leg over her lap and leans her back so she’s flat against the mattress. She continues to straddle Clarke, her lips moving down her neck, her shoulders and finally, to the tops of her breasts.

She kisses the skin of her breast, all around her nipple, before finally reaching it and taking it into her mouth. It feels incredible. Again, it’s like something’s exploding beneath her skin. Clarke has her head thrown back and the warmth of Lexa’s mouth feels amazing against the hardness of her nipple.

When she moves to her other breast, her fingers replace her mouth and she keeps the nipple between her fingers. Lexa seems to have settled into some kind of rhythm and maybe it helps her to focus on Clarke. It’s not something she would ever complain about. She wants Lexa to touch her. Everywhere. Her hips rut up, mostly of their own volition and Lexa looks up at her through her eyelashes, her mouth still wrapped around her nipple. If she wasn’t already wet, she certainly was now. She wants her pants off and Lexa’s fingers inside her. Now. She thrusts her hips up again, hoping they send the message her mouth can’t form.

Lexa releases the nipple from her mouth. She trails kisses down the length of Clarke’s stomach.

She has to move off of Clarke’s lap, her hands working on the button of Clarke’s shorts. She raises her hips, making it easier for Lexa to slide them down her legs and toss them away somewhere. She comes back up then, bringing their lips together. Her tongue is warm and eager and Clarke matches her intensity as best she can. She’s glad that Lexa is doing most of the work because frankly, she’s so baked she doesn’t think she could manage to get her fingers to work the right way right now. But everything Lexa’s doing feels incredible, and maybe it’s a mistake to fuck her for the first time while they’re high because it won’t ever feel like this again, but Clarke doesn’t care. All she knows is that it feels fucking brilliant now.

Their tongues are moving against each other when Clarke finally feels fingers between her legs. Lexa had left her underwear on and she’s dragging her fingers lightly, teasingly, over the soaked fabric. Clarke inhales and it’s shaky. Her hips buck again., her body needing more friction. Their lips separate and Clarke’s breathing is already unsteady. Lexa is sucking at the skin near her collarbone and she’s sure she’s going to give her a hickey. The fingers between her legs finally apply more pressure, though only slightly. She feels Lexa’s fingers at her clit and she wishes she would just fucking go for it. She’s been wet for hours. She needs this.

“More, Lexa,” Clarke says because she’s not going fast enough. Lexa chuckles but does as she’s told.

She starts to rub at her clit over the fabric of her underwear. Lexa is still working at her neck and Clarke uses her free hand to wrap around Lexa’s head and grip at her hair. “Take them off,” Clarke whispers. Lexa laughs.

“Say please,” she whispers into her ear and god, she thought it was impossible for her to be any more turned on.

“ _ Please, _ ” Clarke says and she’s nearly begging now. Lexa takes her hand from between her legs and moves down. She slides the palm of her hand beneath the band of Clarke’s underwear, hooking her thumbs around the top. Slowly, she pushes it down. As the lace moves down her legs, Lexa does as well. Lexa settles between her legs, pulling her knees apart, and lying down between her thighs. She kisses them first. And she’s moving tantalizingly slowly and Clarke thinks that maybe Lexa gets off on moving at glacial pace. “If you don’t put your mouth on me, I swear to- _ oh _ ,” Clarke’s statement is interrupted when Lexa presses her tongue firmly against her clit. She takes it then between her lips and Clarke is sure that this is what heaven is: a hot girl between your legs, sucking your clit while you’re as high as Kilimanjaro.

It doesn’t take long for Lexa to slip a finger inside of her. She moans loudly when she does, the finger knuckle deep and pumping in and out of her quickly. Lexa’s tongue is still working her clit and still she needs more. “Another finger,” Clarke says through heavy breaths, reaching down and burying a hand in Lexa’s hair. Lexa is quick to comply. She crooks her fingers just so in the right direction and Clarke sees stars. She pulls at the hair on Lexa’s head with both of her hands. “Keep doing that,” she says because if she keeps hitting that spot and keeps her tongue on her clit, she’ll be coming in record time.

Lexa’s fingers work in and out of her, her tongue working the rest of her.

Lexa’s fingers work in intervals, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, and each time she slows down, Clarke thinks she’s going to pass out. Her forehead is slick with a sheen of sweat and so is the rest of her body. Lexa’s free hand is resting on her hip, fingers gripping at the skin there. As Clarke begins to feel the tell tale clench in her stomach, she takes one hand out from Lexa’s hair and brings it over to her hip. She laces her fingers with Lexa’s own as she grinds her hips down against Lexa’s fingers, coming with a loud moan. Lexa’s fingers continue to move and so does her tongue until Clarke is literally shaking and then finally, she pulls them out. She sits up, releasing Clarke’s hand, and deliberately stares at Clarke as she takes each one of her wet fingers into her mouth and licks them clean.

Well shit, Clarke might just be ready to go again.

(And she is. It’s not long before Lexa’s fingers are back inside of her and she’s throwing her head back in ecstasy).

(She comes four times that night - each time better than the last).

-

When Lexa wakes the next morning, her mouth is extremely dry and her body is exhausted. It takes a moment for her to remember exactly why. Then she looks down at Clarke’s still sleeping form. The sheets are down by her hips and Lexa remembers everything that happened last night.

She’d fucked Clarke.

Multiple times.

And then Clarke fucked her. Though she’d only come at the hands of Clarke half as many times as Clarke did by hers, it was well worth it. She got off listening to Clarke’s moans and feeling her writhe against the sheets, gripping her hair and pulling it in attempt to get her closer.

Lexa looks down at her own body. At some point during the night, she’d gotten completely naked. She can’t remember the last time someone had seen her without anything covering her. She remembers feeling insecure when she’d first taken off her shirt but Clarke’s words did help to calm her down.

And it’s easier to feel sexy when the person you’re pleasuring can’t seem to get enough of you.

But now it’s morning and the high has worn off and she feels exposed and horrible all over again. As quietly and as gently as she can, she moves herself out of the bed and moves to find herself a shirt (and underwear). She finds her tank top and slides it on, quickly followed by her underwear. She’s about to head into the bathroom when she hears the clearing of Clarke’s throat. She turns around and she sees Clarke resting her head on her hand, her elbow propping her head up. “Trying to sneak out on me?” Clarke jokes and Lexa smiles.

“Never,” she replies, almost too sincerely. Clarke smiles, tucking her face into shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she says before turning and going into the bathroom. She pees quickly and washes her hands. She doesn’t look in the mirror. She never does if she can help it.

She walks back out into the room and sits back down on the bed. She reclines against the pillow and Clarke is at her side almost instantly. She rests her head on her chest and tosses an arm over her waist. There’s a bit of exposed skin on Lexa’s hip that Clarke begins to trace. Lexa tries not to flinch. She knows that Clarke had spent her fair share of time exploring her exposed skin the night previous but there’s something about Clarke touching her body in the sunlight that makes her want to cringe. “I meant what I said last night,” Clarke murmurs, her voice still quite sleepy.

“That I was an amazing fuck?” Lexa says and Clarke chuckles.

“That too,” she pauses and she shifts so she’s looking up at Lexa. “You’re fucking beautiful,” she echoes the words she’d told her before she’d gotten the courage to take her shirt off. Lexa feels a fluttering in her stomach. She pulls Clarke in closer to her and she notices that her eyes have already fallen shut again.

As Lexa gives up on combatting the butterflies, she realizes that she truly does believe it when Clarke says she’s beautiful.

That’s a first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @ cmdrlexas for snippets/progress updates/etc. as always feedback is greatly appreciated!!!


	7. don't know how it gets better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember we're rated e. e stands for excessive fluff. and also sex. also you might have noticed, we have a final chapter count for this! it'll round out at ten. so just three more after this ;)

They’re driving into Nebraska and frankly, there’s not much to see.

In fact, it might be the most visually uninteresting place that Clarke has ever seen. It’s mostly flatland and she can almost feel the landscape dulling her creative senses. Lexa’s driving and since she’s a smooth driver, Clarke is able to keep her sketchbook balanced on her legs. She’s drawing Lexa.

Her profile is wonderfully illuminated by the sun streaking in through the windows. It’s like a halo around her and Clarke is sure that heavenly is the only right way to describe her in the moment. There’s a small smirk pulling at the visible side of her face and Clarke squints, focusing even harder on getting the apple of her cheek shaped perfectly. “You’re staring,” Lexa whispers, the hum of her voice the only sound in the car. They’d been riding in silence though it wasn’t an awkward one - no. It was nice. Comfortable. Clarke lifts the eraser of her pencil to her mouth.

“I am,” Clarke doesn’t bother to deny it - she knows Lexa’s felt the intensity of her eyes on her since they started driving. “I can’t help it,” she says with a shrug. A faint blush spreads across Lexa’s cheeks and Clarke’s smile is soft. There’s a tug in her gut and, perhaps for the first time, she lets herself feel it. Lexa is beautiful. It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that. All she knows is that she hasn’t been more inspired by the curve of anyone else’s nose or the upturn of their lips.

Clarke’s not willing to say that she’s been in a rut but it’s certainly true that she hasn’t been able to draw anything worth keeping in months. Not since Finn. It’s been black spots and hands reaching out into empty space where there’s nothing to grab. 

But there was just something about Lexa. She’d been inspired that afternoon in Salt Lake City for the first time and she had to run with it. She had to. She wasn’t about to let opportunity slip away.

And now every time she looks at Lexa, when she’s in the perfect light, she imagines immortalizing her on the page. Keeping the beauty of the moment well, forever.

And it’s a scary thought. Clarke only ever draws things she’s loves. Her parents, Raven, Finn. Her biggest inspiration is  _ feeling _ . And she feels a lot. Much more than she’s willing to admit but her heart bleeds onto paper and she’s never been able to control that. 

She’d be foolish to think that things between she and Lexa were simply friendly. Even without the sex, it felt like more. It felt like something special. Something worth cherishing and nurturing. And that was even scarier than anything else.

She’s never been good at loving. Everything she’s ever loved has shattered in front of her, leaving her only with broken pieces she’s unable to clean up.

(And love is a strong word but no other one seems to be able to shoulder the weight of everything she’s feeling).

Lexa’s eyes are still on the road, both of her hands on the wheel. Clarke’s sketch is finished and she adds just a few finishing touches. Lexa glances down at it and Clarke has to fight the urge to pull the paper up to her chest. Her work is her vulnerability. But she figures Lexa’s already seen quite a bit of her that it seems silly to hide it. Lexa smiles, her eyes bright. “You draw me as much more beautiful than I truly am,” Lexa comments and Clarke feels almost offended.

“I draw what I see,” Clarke defends and Lexa just shakes her head.

“Perhaps you should get your eyes checked,” she softly replies, her focus returning to the road. Her cheeks are flushed and Clarke's state is intense. It hits her, perhaps not for the first time, that Lexa doesn't see herself. At least not the right way.

“You’re a work of art all on your own,” Clarke says softly, under her breath, like she doesn’t want Lexa to hear it. She does and the tips of her ears go red.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to crash this car, Clarke,” Lexa replies, her voice melodic and soft. Her hands are shaking on the wheel and it’s probably stupid, it could definitely get them killed, but Clarke reaches over the emergency brake and grabs one of Lexa’s shaking hands. Her grip loosens and it allows Clarke to pull her hand down and intertwine their fingers. “This isn’t safe,” she says, her voice shaking and Clarke brings their connected hands to her lips. She kisses the back of Lexa’s knuckles. “I mean it, we could die, Clarke,” Lexa continues and she isn’t making any movements to pull her hand away.

“To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” Clarke sings then and Lexa turns to her, an eyebrow raised.

“The Smiths? Really?” Lexa asks and Clarke shrugs.

“Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road Miss. I’m-obsessed-with-car-safety?” Clarke teases and Lexa looks away. Clarke settles their hands between them and still, Lexa doesn’t try to pull away. Clarke brushes her thumb over Lexa’s knuckles as she leans back, resting her head against the back of her seat. “I mean it,” Clarke says after a few moments of silence.

“Mean what?” Lexa replies.

“You’re like a marble statue. Too beautiful to be real,” Clarke’s words are still mumbled but Lexa hears her loud and clear. She tightens her grip on Clarke’s hand.

“Who slipped sap into your coffee this morning?” Lexa asks, her cheeks still pink. Clarke is staring at her, her lips in a lazy half-smile. The sunset continues to illuminate her profile and again, Clarke’s stomach turns.

“Must be the weather,” Clarke replies, her eyes on Lexa, the clear purple sky in her periphery.

-

Lexa isn’t tired.

The sun has long since set. It’s nearly midnight and she still has one hand on the wheel, the other gripping Clarke’s. She’s sleeping now, her head resting against the window. Lexa makes sure she drives carefully, avoiding any holes in the road. She knows she should pull over and find a motel soon but the open road is nice - it helps her clear her head.

Ever since last night, she’s been caught between feeling like she’s floating on some sort of cloud and waiting for the other shoe to drop. It seems too good to be true.

She wants to hope that it isn’t, that Clarke does see her the way that she claims to, but it’s difficult. Her insecurity eats at her positive thoughts until they’re nothing but a sliver. The shadows are easier to find than the light.

But even in her sleep, Clarke hasn’t let her go and Lexa dares to let herself hope.

She starts to yawn at nearly one and decides it’s time to find a place to sleep. They’d driven through Colorado vertically instead of horizontally, Lexa eager to avoid the bible belt states of Kansas and Missouri, so it feels like she’s been driving for much longer without actually getting anywhere.

There’s a motel that isn’t very far and she pulls off the highway.

When she gets to the parking lot, she pulls the key out of the ignition and turns toward Clarke. She turns, just slightly, her eyes still shut. There’s a small smile on Lexa’s face as she looks at Clarke’s sleeping face. It’s probably strange that Lexa is just watching her but she looks so peaceful when she sleeps. She hides it well but Lexa can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. She’s a hurricane waiting to happen and Lexa’s never been so ready to be destroyed by anything in her life.

Lexa has pull her hand away and Clarke shifts in her sleep again. Her brow furrows and her hand closes, like it’s trying to tighten its grip on something that isn’t there anymore. She watches for a few more moments before she pushes the door open and walks inside the motel. The man at the desk is grumpy and vaguely upset that he has to service her but Lexa keeps her mouth shut and takes the key from him wordlessly. She walks back to the car. Clarke is awake now and she’s rubbing at her eyes with the backside of her palm. Lexa walks to her side and opens the door. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asks and Lexa shrugs.

“You looked peaceful,” she replies and Clarke smiles. She reaches her hand out and wiggles her fingers.

“Help me up,” she says and Lexa isn’t really in a position to refuse her anything. She grabs her hand and pulls her out of the seat and right to her chest. Lexa looks down at her, smiling.

“Hi,” she whispers. Clarke bites down on her bottom lip.

“Hi,” she replies, releasing it. Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s hips, keeping her close. Clarke, in turn, brings her arms to rest around Lexa’s neck. Lexa is staring down at her and she can see the reflection of the moon in her eyes. “How long was I sleeping?” Clarke asks and Lexa shrugs.

“A few hours,” Lexa responds. Clarke’s forehead wrinkles.

“You were driving all that time?” she asks and Lexa nods.

“It was nice. Thought it was hard to drive with only one available hand,” Lexa teases and Clarke drops her head into Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa’s hears her inhale and she kisses the top of Clarke’s head. “We should get inside,” Lexa continues, the wind beginning to pick up. They pull apart but Clarke’s hand slides down Lexa’s bare arm and she laces their fingers. She leans her head against Lexa’s shoulder as Lexa grabs her, and Clarke’s, bag from the trunk. She locks the car and starts to lead Clarke over to the line of doors. “Are you falling asleep?” Lexa asks when she looks down and notices that Clarke’s eyes are once again shut.

“No,” she mumbles though her eyes don’t open. Lexa keeps her grip on Clarke’s hand tight. Their room is on the bottom level, thankfully, and Lexa finds it quickly. It’s hard to put the key in the lock and turn it with only one available hand but she manages. She shuts the door behind her as Clarke pulls away and collapses onto the bed. Lexa puts their bags at the edge of the bed.

Clarke yawns, pulling the sheets up against her chest, while Lexa grabs her things to change. “I’ve already seen you naked,” she grumbles, opening one of her eyes. Lexa flushes.

“I have to keep some sense of propriety,” Lexa replies, leaning down to kiss Clarke on the forehead. She tries to straighten her back but Clarke grabs onto her arm and pulls her down.

“Stay here,” she says, her voice husky and slow with sleep. And Lexa can’t resist. She settles, facing Clarke. Her eyes are open, just barely, and she smiles. “Did you mean it?” she asks and Lexa’s brow furrows as she thinks through all of the things she’s said today that could have possibly had misconstrued meanings.

“Mean what?” Lexa asks.

“Last night. When you called me love. Did you mean it?” Clarke asks and Lexa feels her face flood with color. She’d assumed Clarke hadn’t heard her- or that she’d simply forgotten about it. And maybe it’s the way she’s looking at her through heavy lidded eyes but Lexa can’t think of any reason to lie.

She’s in love with Clarke.

It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Lexa’s smile is warm and soft, her stomach filled with butterflies as the realization settles over her. She’s in love. It feels like she’s just completed a crossword. She’s not sure if ‘accomplished’ is the right word but it’s something like it. Like finally fitting together all of the pieces and seeing the completed picture.

Lexa scoots closer to Clarke, resting her forehead against hers. Their breath intermingles and Lexa starts to lose track of who is who. “Yes,” she whispers. “I meant it,” she continues and Clarke’s smile is lazy.

“Me too,” she replies, her words beginning to slur. She turns over and settles her back against Lexa, who is busy trying to calm her racing heart.

She’s not sure it means what thinks it does - that Clarke might love her too, but there’s hope ballooning in her chest and as dangerous as she knows that is, she can’t stop it. She doesn’t want to stop it.

She’s in love with Clarke and she’s going to revel in that realization, at least for right now.

-

Clarke isn’t certain that she didn’t dream last night.

In fact, she’s almost sure that she did. The memories of the hotel are hazy and Clarke is sure she dreamt them. For Clarke, being tired is quite a bit like being drunk. Bits and pieces of memory will fade out and she’ll wake up unsure if they ever really happened at all.

Lexa is pressed firmly against her back, her hand draped over her hip. Clarke inhales, the scent of Lexa’s hair (which has managed to fall over onto her shoulder) floating to her nose. She smells like roses and fresh apples. It’s comforting. It’s strange, she thinks, that she feels like sinking further into Lexa’s grip than running away from it.

Clarke feels Lexa’s lips press firmly against the skin of her shoulder and Clarke doesn’t bother to stop the smile that crawls onto her face. “Morning,” Clarke whispers and Lexa pulls Clarke closer.

“It’s early,” Lexa grumbles and Clarke laughs.

“I can see the sun through the blinds, it’s not that early,” Clarke replies and Lexa just buries her face further into Clarke’s shoulder.

“Early enough,” she replies, her voice muffled by Clarke’s skin against her lips.

Carefully, Clarke turns and she notices that, like her, Lexa is still in her clothes from yesterday. She remembers pulling her down onto the bed and telling her to stay, so that must not have been a dream.

She kisses the tip of Lexa’s nose. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” Clarke comments and Lexa’s nose wrinkles, her eyes still shut.

“I’m not grumpy, I’m sleepy,” she replies and Clarke nudges her forehead.

“They’re the same thing,” Clarke states and Lexa huffs. Her face starts to go soft again and her breath steadies. She’s asleep.

Clarke watches her for a few moments before she decides that watching Lexa sleep crosses the cute line and heads right into creep territory. She stretches and looks at her phone. There’s a missed call from Raven. Clarke sighs.

She hasn’t spoken to Raven since that day in Colorado.

And there’s a twinge of guilt in her stomach when she realizes that she hadn’t even thought about her much. Raven’s her best friend. She at least owed her the courtesy of a thought.

She steps outside of the motel room, walking toward the gate. She rests her elbows on the edge and presses redial. She holds the phone up to her ear and waits while it rings. Her foot taps against the concrete, nerves creeping up through her.

“Hello?” Raven says and she sounds out of breath - like she’d been rushing to get somewhere.

“Hi,” Clarke replies, her voice low and Clarke is hesitant to admit it, shameful.

“I didn’t think you’d call back,” Raven says and Clarke bites her lip.

“Well you called before the sun even rose over there so I figured it had to be important,” Clarke tries to joke but her voice is weak. There’s silence on the phone and then a long sigh from Raven’s end.

“I’m sorry you were upset about I said,” Raven starts and Clarke’s stomach drops. “But I stand by it,” she finishes. Clarke takes a deep breath. She knows that Raven isn’t here. She can’t see the way that they look at each other, the way they hold each other, the way that Lexa makes her feel.

The way Clarke loves her.

Clarke takes a deep breath and it’s now or never. It’s one thing to admit it in your head but to say it out loud? That gives it weight. Gives it validity and makes it an inescapable truth. But she has to. “I’m in love with her, Raven,” she says - plainly, simply. It’s less an admission and more a statement of fact.

“Clarke, it’s barely been two weeks,” Raven replies, sounding both taken aback and skeptical.

“I know, I know. It happened so fast. Before I even knew it,” Clarke says and it’s true. She’d fallen so fucking hard for Lexa without even noticing. And she’s scared, utterly terrified, but she’s  _ sure _ .

“Well shit,” Raven replies and Clarke extends her free arm, pushing herself away from the railing.

“Yeah,” Clarke says, her voice soft and light.

“You sure she didn’t cast a spell on you? I’ve always gotten Winifred Sanderson vibes off of her,” Raven jokes and finally, Clarke smiles. Maybe Raven doesn’t get it but she’s trying and that’s all Clarke can really ask.

“She didn’t bewitch me. At least not in a traditional sense,” Clarke says and Raven makes a gagging noise into the fun.

“I forgot how absolutely disgusting you are when you’re in love,” Raven comments and Clarke’s smile is quick to fall.

This is different than Finn.

Finn was tension and push and pull and fists against chests. Lexa is softness and openness and what Clarke thinks love should be like.

“This is different,” Clarke says and Raven’s sigh is soft.

“I know,” she replies and they both fall silent for a moment. Clarke knows they’re both thinking of him. It’s been a sore subject between them for years, even before his death. They usually don’t discuss it or him. They’d mourned privately for him in their own ways and it had worked well enough for both of them. But the silence is thick with everything that’s gone unsaid. Clarke knows that it isn’t the time. Maybe there won’t ever  _ be  _ a time. Some things really are better left unsaid. “Does she know? About Finn?” Raven asks, breaking the silence and even the sound of his name feels like someone’s shattering glass into her ears. Clarke sighs.

“No. Haven’t found a way to work that naturally into conversation,” Clarke mumbles. How is she supposed to bring him up? Hey, pass me the cheetos. By the way, I’m responsible for the death of my ex boyfriend?

It wasn’t something you just say.

“You should tell her,” Raven says and Clarke clenches her jaw. They’d just managed to patch things up, in the way that they know how, and Clarke isn’t eager to start another fight so soon. But Raven is treading on dangerous territory.

“Yeah, maybe,” Clarke starts and she stands, pushing her body away from the railing completely. “I’m going to go. Lexa should be waking up soon and we’re going back on the road,” Clarke continues, making her excuses.

“Yeah sure. Be careful, Griff, okay?” Raven says and Clarke grumbles something that’s vaguely an agreement in response. Clarke stands outside of the door for another moment. She leans her head against the frame and takes a deep breath, attempting to process everything that just happened in that phone call.

Her head may have taken a bit to catch up with her heart but now that it’s there? She only wishes it’d gotten there sooner.

-

Lexa puts her hair in two long braids. The blow dryer in the bathroom had short circuited while she was using it, thus leaving her hair a sopping wet mess. She has a frown settled on her mouth and Clarke is smirking at her. “What?” Lexa asks and Clarke shakes her head.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen those braids,” Clarke says and Lexa shrugs. She hadn’t realized but it’s true that she’s been wearing her hair down much more the longer that the trip goes on.

“The blow dryer broke,” Lexa explains, carefully folding her pajamas and putting them back into her bag. Hers is a stark contrast to Clarke’s - which is quite messy, clothes mostly thrown in in a haphazard manner. She can’t help herself, she reaches over and starts folding a few pieces of clothes on the top.

“Are you organizing my bag?” Clarke asks, raising an eyebrow and Lexa feels her cheeks color.

“It’s possible,” Lexa responds, unsure of how Clarke will react. A grin spreads across her face though and Lexa lets out a long breath. Good. This still feels….new. She doesn’t know the right things to say or to do. Lexa wonders how it’s possible to feel so deeply for someone and yet not know the way they like their clothes folded -  _ if  _ they like their clothes folded. But then she looks up at Clarke’s smile and the butterflies in her stomach erupt again and  _ that’s  _ how it’s possible. God, her smile could melt the fucking ice caps, it’s made of such brightness.

“You’re like my mother,” Clarke teases and Lexa bites her lip.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Lexa inquires, curious because she hasn’t heard Clarke mention her mother. Not once. Clarke’s smile falls for a moment and Lexa wouldn’t have noticed if she’d looked away even more a moment but her gaze remains steady on her (because there’s not really a way that Lexa could ever look at anything else when Clarke is around - she’s magnetizing).

“Good. You remind of me of the good parts of her,” Clarke replies, moving to grab the strap of her bag and sling it over her shoulder. Clarke doesn’t say anything more and Lexa doesn’t push.

Clarke drives this time.

Lexa has her feet kicked up onto the dashboard, scrolling through Instagram. Clarke is humming along to the song on the radio and it’s  _ nice _ . Not for the first time Lexa is grateful that Clarke had been left without a passenger. This trip is changing everything - for the better.

“There’s somewhere I want to take you,” Clarke says and Lexa looks up from her phone with a raised eyebrow.

“There’s somewhere to go in this state?” Lexa replies, wrinkling her nose. Clarke laughs.

“My uncle used to live out here. He was always kind of a loner so this fit him. We used to go this lake and I want to take you there,” Clarke explains and Lexa’s heart skips a beat. There’s something...special about being taken somewhere that Clarke had memories attached to. Like she was being let into part of her life she wouldn’t have otherwise seen. 

“Okay,” Lexa replies, her voice low and sweet. Clarke looks over at her and smiles.

“Yeah?” she asks, as if she can’t believe that Lexa agreed so quickly.

“Of course,” Lexa responds. “I’m curious about you, Clarke. Even still. I don’t want to stop learning about you,” she admits and for once, it’s Clarke’s cheeks that are flushing red.

“You sure know how to charm ‘em,” Clarke says, her voice low and Lexa can hear that she’s flustered. A jolt of pride flows through her at the fact that she did that. She made Clarke Griffin blush. It feels like more of an accomplishment than it ought to.

“Not all of them. Just you,” Lexa replies, her head turning against the back of the seat. Clarke’s face is still red and she reaches across the space with her free hand to rest her hand on Lexa’s thigh. She squeezes but keeps it there.

They fall silent again, Lexa watching the scenery pass through the windows. There’s more grain than she’d anticipated. But the midwest isn’t known for much else besides homophobia and corn. Maybe served with a side of racism.

Clarke’s hand doesn’t move from her thigh and she reaches down to grab hold of it. She laces their fingers. Lexa can see Clarke’s gaze out of the corner of her eye but she keeps her head trained towards the window. She’s smiling when she says, “well you weren’t using it for driving.”

-

They get to the lake while the sun is still shining and that’s really all Clarke wanted.

She wasn’t sure why she was so determined to get Lexa here, to show her this place, but it had been so important to her childhood that it felt like it would have been a missed opportunity if she didn’t.

She’d forgotten about her uncle’s cabin until they’d begun trekking into Nebraska. She hadn’t been there since she was twelve, before her uncle and her father had gotten into that huge blowout fight, but there were so many good memories attached.

They pull into a parking lot but they don’t walk toward the proper entrance. Lexa furrows her eyebrows and Clarke just smirks. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on luring you into the woods to murder you,” Clarke assures and Lexa shakes her head.

“I would never think that,” Lexa replies though her tone is rather unconvincing. Clarke reaches out her hand and Lexa grabs onto it.

“We just have to walk a little and we should be there,” Clarke says, hoping that her memory serves her right. Her uncle’s cabin had been just a short walk away from the parking lot, at least it was short when she was twelve.

The walk turns out to take about forty minutes, though Clarke is sure at least ten minutes could have been shaved off if Clarke hadn’t kept getting distracted by Lexa’s legs in her jean cutoffs. So that was her fault and she can admit that. Finally, they reach their destination. Well. Almost.

Clarke can see the cabin in the distance and she knows the spot she’s looking for is close. She tugs on Lexa’s hand. “Come on, this way,” she says and Lexa’s eyes are wide but she follows without comment.

They have to push through some overgrown brush, which forces Lexa to ask, “are you sure this is safe?” and Clarke pulls her in close and kisses her softly on the lips. “Nice try but the question still stands,” she says after a few moments of kiss dazed silence. Clarke just raises her eyebrows and shrugs.

Finally, Clarke pushes back one last branch and reveals a breaktaking view of the lake beneath them. She hears Lexa gasp. They’re standing on a ledge that looks down onto miles and miles of forest and the vast expanse of water that the lake provides. Lexa stands slack jawed and wide eyed and Clarke just watches her. “This is stunning, Clarke,” she says and Clarke turns out toward the horizon.

“I know. I saw my first sunset from here when I was nine,” Clarke starts, thinking back to how excited she was to finally be allowed onto the ledge. She had finally been old enough. The view of that sunset was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Until she met Lexa.

“Amazing,” Lexa murmurs as the colors in the sky begin to fade to orange.

“Want to sit?” Clarke asks, taking a step back. Lexa nods and they move against the wall of the cliff. The stone won’t be comfortable but Clarke doesn’t mind. She slides down the stone and stretches out her legs. Lexa sits next to her and Clarke is quick to wrap her arm around her. Lexa’s head settles on her shoulder and they watch the sun begin to go down in silence.

Clarke is dragging her fingers up and down Lexa’s arm. She can feel the goosebumps beginning to pop up on her skin and she traces patterns in them. “What’s your family like? I know a bit about your dad but no one else. I didn't even know you had an uncle,” Lexa asks, finally breaking the silence and Clarke’s breath hitches.

A week ago she would have brushed off the question. Gave a cop out answer that wouldn’t have counted for anything. But Lexa’s shown Clarke so much of her soul it feels only right to give some of it back. “My mom is a doctor. She used to be a trauma surgeon but she works as a general practitioner now. I never saw much of her growing up. I was always with my dad,” Clarke says, staring out at the sun that’s beginning to fall beneath the line of the horizon. “She pulled life support,” Clarke continues, feeling the familiar lump in her throat. “He was in a coma for almost a year and she made the choice to end life support. He could have woken up if she’d just given him more time,” Clarke finishes, clenching her jaw so the tears don’t fall. Her grip on Lexa’s shoulder has tightened, something she only notices when Lexa’s own hand falls to her knee. Her touch is soft in contrast to Clarke’s own. “We don’t talk much. But she’s been trying to get me to come home for months. They’re dedicating the football stadium at my old high school to him. So that’s why I’m going home. I have to be there. For him,” Clarke explains, still not looking at Lexa.

“But not for your mother?” Lexa asks and Clarke’s chest feels like it’s going to constrict.

“I’ve tried letting go of my anger, I have. But it’s hard when I think that if he’d just had more time…..this could be a family trip to see my uncle Marcus. He could still be here if she hadn’t pulled the fucking plug,” Clarke grits and she feels Lexa’s chest expand against her.

“Clarke, the longer he stayed in a coma, statistically, the less likely he was to wake up,” Lexa offers and Clarke’s nostrils flare.

“I know the statistics but….but I knew him better. He was the strongest person I’ve ever met. If anyone could have pulled through,” she trails off and she knows it’s not true. She knows he was gone. He was gone before her mother signed anything but it was easier to blame her than to accept that he could just leave her. Leave  _ them _ . It wasn’t fucking fair. “I miss him,” Clarke says.

“I know,” Lexa replies. “I know.”

“And I’m still so fucking angry,” Clarke continues because now that the floodgates are open she can’t stop. “I know,” she pauses, her words coated in anger and unshed tears, “that he  _ never  _ would have done it to her. He would have waited,” Clarke says and a tear falls down her cheek now. She doesn’t wipe it away. 

“In life, you have to make hard decisions. Our path is paved by the choices that we make and not all of them build a new road. Some leave cracks. But Clarke if there’s one thing I know, it’s that being angry and resentful hurts more than it helps. I know you don’t want to hear this but if this killed you, imagine what it did to her. You can choose to forgive her,” Lexa says and from anyone else, she would have pushed. She would have walked away, screaming that they didn’t know anything.

But from Lexa? It makes sense. And it hurts because she knows. She knows it wasn’t her mother’s fault. But this anger? This is all she’s had left of him. Holding onto it helps hold onto him. It wasn’t the giraffes she’d onto. It was anger and contempt.

And maybe she did need to let it go.

Hating her mother was exhausting. And she can’t do it for her entire life, she knows that. It won’t be an easy process but letting go has to start sometime. And maybe here, in this spot, is the best place to to begin.

Lexa is still curled against her chest. Clarke leans down and kisses the top of her head. “Thank you,” she murmurs. She feels Lexa nod against her chest. The sky is dark now and the stars appear above them. It’s clearest sky she’s ever seen and Lexa fits so perfectly against her- it would be the perfect time to say it. She opens her mouth and she tries to get the words out but they stick to her throat. So she settles for thinking it over and over and over again.

_ I love you.  _

-

They nearly fall asleep on the cliff but the chill of the wind manages to keep them awake long enough to get back to the car and find a motel.

Lexa crashes the moment they get in. She’s exhausted and it’s been a long day. She just needs to sleep. She’s in bed before Clarke and she pulls on the edge of her shorts, “come here,” she whispers, opening her arms and Clarke falls into them quickly. Lexa pulls her tight against her body, “you’re strong, Clarke,” is the last thing Lexa remembers saying to her before she falls asleep.

They get up early the next morning and exchange kisses over coffee before they start to drive. They’re headed for Omaha, which is the closest big city to them.

They arrive in the afternoon and Lexa decides it’s time to spring for another hotel.

The room is nice, though not as nice as the one in Colorado. The air conditioning is on but Lexa is still sweating. She lays down on the bed throwing her arm over her eyes. Clarke sits next to her. “What’s the fanciest thing you brought with you?” Clarke asks and Lexa peeks out from underneath her elbow.

“I have a dress that’s rather nice,” Lexa replies, raising her eyebrow. “Why?” she asks and Clarke smirks - something Lexa is slowly learning only means trouble.

“Take a shower and put it on. I’m taking you out,” Clarke announces, standing up. Lexa leans up onto her elbows.

“You’re taking me out? You don’t know anything in this city,” Lexa questions and Clarke just shrugs.

“I’ve done some research,” she replies slyly and Lexa feels her stomach turn. Is it what she thinks it is?

“Clarke, are you taking me on a date?” Lexa asks and Clarke bites her lip. Then slowly, she nods.

“I am,” she replies and Lexa’s smile grows. “I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready,” Clarke says and she starts to walk towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Lexa asks and Clarke’s hand is on the doorknob. She turns, her smirk only growing.

“Don’t worry about it - just be ready when I get back,” Clarke says, 

So Lexa stands and she walks into the bathroom. As she showers, it registers to her that she hasn’t shaved her legs in nearly two weeks. She didn’t even think to bring a razor. But Clarke doesn’t seem to mind and frankly, neither does she.

She takes her time getting dressed. The white dress that she has stowed away in her bag needs to be steamed so she leaves it in the bathroom while she dries her hair. She has a bit of makeup that she’s taken with her - just the necessities, eyeliner, mascara, and a neutral shade of lipstick, that she carefully applies. Her hair falls in curls down her shoulders and very carefully, she slips into her dress.

The top fits more like a chemise than a dress, the material light and silky. She can’t wear a bra with any substantial support with it but she figures that’s something Clarke won’t mind. She wears a lace bralette, in the same shade of white as the dress, and hopes she doesn’t look too loose.

She pulls her hair over one shoulder and she crosses and uncrosses her legs repeatedly while she waits for Clarke to come back. 

Her foot taps against the carpeted floor. She feels a bit foolish wearing sandals with such a nice dress but she didn’t have another option. She’d packed light. She never anticipated being on the road for so long. Finally, just a few minutes after seven, the door opens. Clarke walks back into the room, a bouquet of flowers covering her face. She lowers it, grinning. She wears a simple dress, one that looks brand new and Lexa suspects that’s where she’s been the past hour. Lexa stands, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

Clarke is looking at her with sparkles in her eyes and Lexa bites her lip, blushing. “You look,” and she pauses then, her eyes raking the whole of Lexa’s body. She feels slightly uncomfortable under the steady gaze and fights the urge to cross her arms over her chest and hide herself. She doesn’t have to do that - not with Clarke. She’s allowed to take up space here. “Fucking amazing,” Clarke finishes her statement and Lexa knows her cheeks are bright red now. She’s never been great at taking a compliment but especially not one from Clarke.

“You’re the one who looks amazing. That dress is stunning. So are you,” Lexa replies and Clarke’s smile is soft.

“Here, these are for you,” Clarke holds out the flowers and Lexa grabs hold of them. She brings them to her nose, inhaling.

“They smell like my garden at home, thank you,” Lexa whispers. They stand quite far apart from each other, silence settling between the as though they hadn’t seen each other naked just a few short days ago. It seems neither of them is quite sure how to operate this new territory of ‘yes, we do like each other and now it’s time to show it’. Clarke clears her throat and sticks out her hand.

“Shall we?” she asks, her voice taking on a faux haughty tone.

“You sound like my old butler,” Lexa comments as she slips her hand into Clarke’s.

“Just what every girl wants to hear when she’s trying to take her-” Clarke pauses, blushing and stumbling over her words, “a girl out on a date,” she corrects herself and Lexa lets the verbal error slide.

Their hands swing between them as they walk to the car. “So where are you taking me?” Lexa asks and Clarke shakes her head.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she replies and Lexa can’t even pretend to be angry.

She’s going on a date with Clarke. An actual date. Her heart is nearly beating out of her chest and she thinks she’s never been so nervous for anything her life.

-

Lexa’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

When she stands in front of her, soft white dress flowing down to her knees, Clarke nearly buckles over right there.

But nothing,  _ nothing _ , beats the way she started to laugh when they pulled up to the diner. It was like a melody that she wanted to put on repeat and listen to every single fucking day.

Clarke opens the door for Lexa and holds out her arm. Mirth is still dancing in her eyes and Clarke’s grin is wide. Lexa puts her hand in hers, still laughing to herself. “You wanted me in my best dress for a diner?” Lexa asks when her laughter finally settles. Clarke nods.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to get dressed and go nowhere special?” Clarke asks and Lexa looks contemplative.

“I’ve gotten dressed up and had somewhere to go. A stuffy social event for my parents or even prom. It always felt so stuffy,” Lexa comments, wrinkling her nose. “I like this,” Lexa continues, which settles Clarke’s mind just a little.

It’d been an impulse. She just remembered the way her family used to get together after parties, or galas at the hospital, and go to a diner and eat pancakes in expensive dresses and it was the best feeling. She wanted to share that with Lexa, especially after what she’d done for her the night previous.

She hadn’t forgiven her mother, not yet, but she was ready to start trying and that’s more progress than she’s made in years. It means more to her than she can truly express.

They sit on opposite sides of the table. Clarke is easily able to ignore the stares of the patrons but she notices that Lexa keeps looking at them out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulders have hunched and her arms are crossed across her chest in that way that Clarke’s come to recognize as the way she tries to hide herself from the world. She makes herself small and Clarke wonders if that’s even possible for someone with as commanding presence as she has. Clarke reaches across the table and grabs Lexa’s hand. “Come back to me,” Clarke whispers, echoing those same words she’d said a few nights ago. Lexa’s eyes lock on hers and she, almost instantly, seems more grounded. Clarke brushes her fingers across the back of her knuckles as her eyes browse the menu. The menu has both breakfast and dinner foods and Clarke is reminded then of the diner in Tahoe.

She’d been so sure she only liked what she knew. That she wouldn’t be satisfied with anything else.

But now, less than two weeks later, she’s sitting across from Lexa and holding her hand, the words ‘I love you’ on the tip of her tongue.

The waitress comes by and when Lexa looks up at the menu, she locks eyes with Clarke. She doesn’t take them away even for a second while she orders. When the waitress shifts attention to her, Clarke looks directly into Lexa’s eyes when she says, “I’ll try the french toast.”

And based on the smile that spreads across Lexa’s face, she knows exactly what this means.

“Wanted to try something new then?” Lexa teases and Clarke laughs.

“I’ve been doing a lot of that recently. Thought I might see what other breakfast foods are out there. Who knows, I might find one I really love,” she replies, her voice cracking just slightly on the word ‘love’. Lexa doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does she ignores it, which Clarke is grateful for. This isn’t the right place for this conversation but the words continue to bounce around her mouth. For once, she’s eager to say them.

When their food comes out, Lexa carefully tucks a napkin into the neckline of her dress and Clarke raises an eyebrow. “What? I’m not taking any risks. I don’t know where the next drycleaners will be,” she comments, her stabbing at her omelette with her fork.

Clarke starts to eat her french toast, swirling the piece around on her tongue, getting as much of the taste of it as she can. It’s quite good. Different from the chocolate chip pancakes but in a good way. It’s a different sort of sweet - one that Clarke thinks she could get used to.

-

Lexa only finishes half of her omelette, though she credits it to the butterflies floating around in her stomach.

The waitress comes with the bill and Lexa tries to grab it but Clarke intercepts. “No way, this is on me,” Clarke says and Lexa’s face bunches up in displeasure. “Listen, I can afford to buy you a cheap dinner at a diner,” Clarke continues and the tension in Lexa’s face relaxes.

“Fine,” Lexa relents and Clarke’s smile is satisfied as she returns the check, with her card, to the waitress. “Thank you,” Lexa says when the waitress is out of earshot.

“For what?” Clarke asks, looking up with a raised eyebrow. Lexa makes a vague hand gesture that she knows doesn’t provide any real answers.

“This. All of this,” Lexa replies. “For tonight and every night before this,” Lexa adds because this is about more than just tonight. It’s always been about more than just the moment with them. It’s about everything but Lexa doesn’t know how to thank Clarke for just being the person that she is without sounding strange.

“You’re welcome,” Clarke replies and their eye contact is prolonged and heavy. It’s only broken when the waitress comes back with Clarke’s card.

They leave the diner holding hands. Clarke starts to lead her away from the car, to Lexa’s vague surprise. “Where to next?” Lexa asks and Clarke looks at her with a smile.

“To the stars,” Clarke whispers, echoing Lexa’s quote from Lovelock. Lexa bites her lip in hopes that it keeps her grin from splitting her face. Lexa leans in close, resting her head on Clarke’s shoulder as they walk. From Clarke’s pocket though, Lexa hears a mechanical, robotic voice.  _ Turn left in 300 feet _ . Lexa laughs.

“Navigation?” Lexa asks and Clarke’s cheeks are red.

“I don’t know how to get around this city,” she grumbles and Lexa just tightens her grip on her hand.

It’s dark now, the lights of the buildings the only thing lighting their path. “Have I told you that dress is beautiful on you?” Clarke says after a few moments of silence. Lexa smiles.

“Once or twice,” she replies and Clarke turns to look at her, her eyes raking her body.

“Then let me say it again. That dress is beautiful on you,” Clarke reiterates.

“You’re very sweet,” Lexa replies and they fall silent again. Lexa knows her palms are sweaty, she can feel them, but she’s so  _ nervous _ . She hasn’t done this in a long time. Things are different when the gravity of feelings is added. There’s a lot Lexa wants to say but she’s not sure Clarke wants to hear any of it.

When they’d started this, they’d said this would just be sex. Fun. Just a few days ago, Clarke wasn’t interested in going on a date with Lexa and she really isn’t sure what’s changed. Part of her is still waiting for Clarke to say ‘oh no this isn’t  _ actually  _ a date’ because it seems completely radical that Clarke would want an actual date. That Clarke might really want to be with her a capacity beyond just ‘fun’.

She knows how hard she’s fallen for Clarke. She just isn’t sure Clarke is on the same page (though that sleepy confession says otherwise).

Clarke pauses in the middle of the sidewalk. People push past them and Lexa furrows her brow. Clarke’s hand pulls out of hers and rests on her hips. She pulls her in close and Lexa’s eyes are wide when Clarke leans down and presses her lips against hers.

It’s a deep kiss, Clarke’s tongue pushes past through her lips and sweeps across her teeth. Lexa lets herself get lost in the feeling.

And when they pull apart, it’s like the fog between them has cleared and things are okay again. Clarke licks her lips and laughs shortly, ducking her head. “I couldn’t help myself,” Clarke says and Lexa smiles widely.

“Good,” Lexa replies and she’s still breathless. Every time Clarke touches her, she takes her breath away. Every time.

Clarke reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Lexa’s ear. Her mouth opens as if she’s going to say something but it closes again quickly and Clarke just kisses her on the cheek. “Let’s keep going before Alie down there starts yelling at me,” Clarke says.

“Alie?” Lexa questions and Clarke hits her purse.

“Yeah. The navigation. I named her Alie. It’s easier to yell when there’s a name,” Clarke explains.

“Cute,” Lexa replies and slides her hand down Clarke’s arm, down to her palm. She intertwines their fingers. Lexa doesn’t think there’s a feeling she enjoys more than Clarke’s hand in her own.

It’s a simple sort of intimacy. Just a reminder that they’re close. Physically and otherwise.

Lexa doesn’t dare let go, not for the entire time that they walk.

And if she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t  _ ever _ want to let go.

-

Clarke is nervous.

She thinks that maybe this errs just a bit too far on the side of ‘cheesy’.

They stand at the side of the bridge and Lexa is looking at it skeptically. “This is a bridge, Clarke,” Lexa states and Clarke fixes her with a harsh stare.

“Yes,” Clarke replies and Lexa raises an eyebrow at her.

“Why are we at a bridge?” Lexa asks and Clarke gestures toward it with her head.

“Come on,” Clarke says, beginning to walk on the sidewalk. Lexa still looks skeptical. “Do you trust me?” Clarke asks and Lexa doesn’t even hesitate.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Then follow me,” Clarke says and Lexa grabs her hand. They start to walk and then Clarke pauses.

She stands in front of the piece that they’re really there to see and turns toward Lexa. “We’re in Nebraska, right?” Clarke says and Lexa nods, looking ta Clarke as if she’s lost a few marbles. Then Clarke takes a few steps forward, revealing the engraving on the sidewalk. “Now I’m in Iowa,” Clarke says and Lexa’s eyes widen. Clarke moves again, putting one foot across the line. “And now I’m in both,” Clarke says and Lexa’s smile is wide and so fucking beautiful that Clarke feels her knees going weak. God, she’s so lovely.

Lexa steps up to the line but she doesn’t cross it. Clarke moves her foot back to the Iowa side of the line and Lexa reaches down to grab both of her hands. Lexa leans in and Clarke meets her in the middle. Their lips meet and Clarke feels Lexa smile against her mouth. “We just kissed in two different states,” Lexa murmurs against her lips and Clarke smiles.

It’s silly, especially considering the proximity of the two states, but something about it gives Clarke a sense of hope. That maybe they can make this work from across states even further apart.

“Get back over here,” Lexa says, taking a step back and leaning against the railings. Clarke does as she asks and moves to stand next to her.

“This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” Lexa murmurs, looking at Clarke out of the corner of her eye. “Thank you,” she says and Clarke shakes her head.

“Don’t thank me. I wanted to do this,” Clarke says. “I shot you down in Utah because I was scared. I was scared that I was starting to feel something for you that would have complicated this,” Clarke explains an Lexa’s back straightens. “That should have been our first date. But I was too scared,” she pauses, putting her hand over Lexa’s on the railing. “I’m not scared anymore,” Clarke finishes and she’s watching Lexa with careful eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. She’s biting down on her lip and when she looks up at Clarke, her eyes are filled with tears. “No, don’t cry,” Clarke says, trying to figure what it is that she said wrong. Lexa shakes her head and brings her hand up to wipe at her eyes.

“These aren’t bad tears,” Lexa replies. “You mean so much to me. I don’t know how to properly express the good that you’ve done for me, Clarke. You’re the best thing I’ve ever held,” Lexa continues, turning her palm up, lacing their fingers to prove her point.

The wind is blowing softly against her, pushing her hair backwards and away from her face. Clarke can see the tear tracks reflected in the moonlight but they’re contrasted with her wide smile. The lights from above them are illuminating her eyes and this is it. This is the moment.

“I love you,” Clarke blurts before she has a chance to really stop herself. Lexa’s body goes still and her back goes rigid. Her smile falls and Clarke fears that maybe she’d read this all wrong. Maybe they weren’t in the same place. Maybe she’d been foolish for believing that Lexa, beautiful, Lexa could feel the same way about her. But then a smile starts to pull at the side of her lips.

“Are….are you sure?” Lexa asks, her voice shaking. Clarke nods.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Clarke says, her voice steady and certain. Lexa pushes off the railing and she throws her arms around Clarke’s neck. Her body is pressed flush against her and Lexa kisses her, long and hard.

“I love you too,” Lexa murmurs against her lips and Clarke thinks she’s never smiled so hugely in her whole fucking life. There’s butterflies in her stomach and if you could bottle light and make it a feeling, it would be this.

She loves her too.

And Clarke has never felt so fucking lucky in her entire life.

-

They get back to the hotel nearly and an hour and a half later. It had taken much longer than usual because Clarke had kept stopping to kiss Lexa. She’s tried to push her against the wall of a building but Lexa refused to let a stark white dress be ruined by residue on a brick wall. Not even by the girl she loved.

The girl who loved her back.

Lexa feels like she’s flying. It’s real. She wasn’t imagining things. She wasn’t being tricked. Clarke loved her in the same way that Lexa did.

The moment they’re through the door, Clarke has her pushed up against a wall. Her hand is sliding up her dress, stroking her bare thigh, which is hooked around Clarke’s hip.

Clarke’s lips are on her neck and she doesn’t pretend that she’s not leaving marks this time. “Mine,” she murmurs into the skin of Lexa’s neck. Her head is thrown back and softly, breathlessly, she replies,

“Yours.”

Lexa’s dress is on the floor before she really even notices. She’s left sitting on the bed in just her lace bra and underwear while Clarke stands in front of her. Lexa drags her hands underneath the skirt of her dress, feeling the skin of her thighs against the tips of her fingers. She pushes the skirt up and she kisses the skin of Clarke’s hips, just above her underwear. “Take it off,” Lexa requests and Clarke does so without so much as a word.

Lexa plants kisses above the elastic of her underwear. Her hands are gripping Clarke’s ass over lace and her fingers dig into it. Clarke’s head is thrown back as Lexa hugs Clarke’s torso close to her.

“Let me take care of you,” Clarke whispers as she pulls away from Lexa. Lexa’s eyes go wide.

The thought of surrendering mercy of her body to Clarke scares her, more than she can possibly say, for reasons she isn’t willing to say. But Clarke’s fingers dance across the blades of her shoulders, drag down her arms and grip her hands like she’s something lifesaving and for once, she doesn’t think of her body as a restriction but something to be admired.

Lexa’s head rests on the pillow as Clarke kisses down her body, paying attention to the parts that Lexa tries to keep hidden. It takes all the strength she has not to pull away - not because she doesn’t love Clarke or love the way this feels but because she doesn’t deserve this. Her body doesn’t deserve this.

But then Clarke looks up at her from her position between her thighs, just before she starts to really touch her, and she says, “you really are a work of art,” and Lexa relaxes. Nothing really changes when someone loves you. The insecurities don’t evaporate. But something does shift - and when the person who loves you says you’re beautiful, you believe it. If only for a moment.

Clarke’s fingers are in her then, her mouth on her clit, and Lexa’s head is thrown back.

She comes quickly (almost embarrassingly quickly) and she unravels - repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me @ aliciaclvrk for updates and snippets and teasers. feedback is appreciated and welcomed!


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